


Doors, Ties, and Unexpected Relationships

by Diary



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Adopted Children, Awkwardness, Background Relationships, Canon Character of Color, Canon Gay Character, Canon Queer Character, Family, Friendship/Love, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Minor Fitzgerald Grant/Olivia Pope, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Post-Season/Series 03 AU, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 14:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11276841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: An AU of seasons 4-5 focusing largely on Cyrus. WIP.





	Doors, Ties, and Unexpected Relationships

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Scandal.

Cyrus tells Ethan, “I need you to look into somebody, and no, you can’t ask why.”

“Okay.”

“His name might be Michael, but I can’t be sure. I don’t have a last name or a number.” Digging out the picture he had printed from the Grand District Hotel security cameras, he hands it over. “All I concretely know is he’s a prostitute.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Ethan says. “Uh, sir, are you worried about someone causing another sex scandal?”

“In a way. Except, no, I’m not. If he was sent by someone to tempt a certain person, I have this person under control. There will be no scandal. If he wasn’t sent by someone- Find the information quickly.”

“Will do. Anything else?”

“No, that’s all for right now.”

…

Ethan shuffles the papers in his folder, cries out when he bumps into someone, and groans as he watches the papers going everywhere.

Inwardly cursing the retreating person walking away without bothering to apologise or even to let him apologise, he kneels down and starts gathering them up.

Suddenly, he sees someone in his peripheral vision picking up papers and hears, “Are you okay?”

“Hey, Agent Larsen,” he greets. “Yeah. Uh, thanks. Should have watched where I was going.”

Agent Larsen wordlessly hands them over, helps him up, and drifts away.

As always, Ethan is left feeling uneasy. Agent Tom Larsen is- creepy might not be the best word, but it comes close. Even the President tries to avoid a shouting Cyrus emerging, but Agent Larsen, though he usually does what Cyrus wants eventually, thereby, proving he is sane, is perpetually calm, and there are times Ethan would swear he’s amused.

He gets to Cyrus’s office and closes the door. “I’m still working on it, but there’s a good chance you’re right, sir. Elizabeth North has some connection to Ambruso. Sorry about the disorganisation. Someone bumped into me.”

Going through the papers, Cyrus sighs. “Thank you, Ethan. Leave.”

Nodding, Ethan moves closer towards the door. “Do you want me to keep digging?”

“No, this is enough to keep our person on a leash.”

“Thank goodness you caught it before they could get themselves into trouble, huh, sir?”

Pressing his fingers against his nose, Cyrus answers, “Yes. Thank goodness. Out.”

…

Cyrus sits down. “Elizabeth North. Funnily enough, she and the First Lady both share a talent for picking out hookers.”

Beside him, Michael stiffens.

“I don’t particularly care,” Cyrus continues. “Trying to prove what she did would likely be fruitless, and even if it weren’t, I have a three-year-old daughter who likes to watch the news with me. I don’t know how much she does and doesn’t understand, but I don’t ever want her seeing her father on the news with the words ‘gay scandal’ in the mix.”

“So, you leave me alone, and I’ll go on with my life. Don’t, and I’ll go after you and her both. Have a good life yourself, Michael.  If I’m the not the only one, I sincerely hope you know what you’re doing.”

He stands up.

Quietly, Michael asks, “That’s it?”

“What else is there? You gave it your best effort. This is far from the worst way political opponents have gone after me. My husband died almost a year ago, and I might not have been there the way I should for her, but I have tried to give my daughter security and stability. I’m not going to risk that just to try to bring down Liz. She and I will continue to make moves against one another, and eventually, one of us, preferably me, will win.”

…

Cyrus would swear he’s still being setup, but he knows he’s just being a paranoid.

He’s at a different bar, far away from the place he met Michael in, and Tom Larsen is sitting at the counter. He’s still in the suit he had on earlier, but the fact he’s removed his earpiece tells Cyrus he’s likely off-duty.

This isn’t the bar Secret Service normally drinks in, but of course, they aren’t limited to one bar.

Walking over, he greets, “Tom.”

Tom looks over with surprise written on his face. “Sir. Did someone send you to find me?”

“No, this is just a coincidence,” Cyrus answers. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

Thankfully, this has nothing to do with any alcohol or addiction problems, and Tom has never made a big deal of his teetotalism. Cyrus doubts he’d even register this fact if not for an incident during Fitz’s governor days when another agent did have a problem with it, and in response, Hal had almost came to blows with said agent. 

“I don’t.” Tom taps his glass. “Arnold Palmer. Iced tea and lemonade.”

“Right, well, don’t let me interrupt your night.”

He goes and takes a seat in a booth.

About five minutes later, Tom has finished his drink and left, and Cyrus can’t but feel guilty and wonder if his appearance is responsible.

…

Two days later, Ethan sticks his head in. “Sir, Agent Larsen is here about next week’s roster.”

“Tom? Send him in.”

When Tom comes in, he sets a paper down on Cyrus’s desk. “Sir, I’m scheduled to the VP’s detail, Hal’s scheduled to POTUS’s, and three agents without proper clearance are expected to report for bunker duty.”

“What? Hal’s on that new junior Senator’s detail. The one with the baby.”

“Yes, sir. If possible, I’d rather not be on the Vice-President’s detail.”

Cyrus groans. “Just a minute.” He digs out his phone. “Cheryl-”

“We’re working on it. It looks like an internal hack. Several different versions of the roster were printed up. We’re trying to get correct ones out to every agent as quickly as possible.”

“Tell me when you find out who’s responsible. In the meantime, I need to know where one agent in particular is supposed to be. Tom Larsen.”

“Oh, him,” she sighs. “He and three other agents are all over the place, but he’s supposed to be on Falcon’s detail, same hours as usual.”

“Thank you, Cheryl.” Hanging up, he says, “It’s looking like someone playing a prank. Your schedule is unchanged.”

Tom nods. “Thank you, sir.”

He starts to walk out.

“Uh, Tom.”

Tom turns back around.

“I’m sorry about the bar the other night. If you had plans.”

“I didn’t,” Tom tells him.

…

This time, Cyrus is sitting in a different bar when Tom comes in.

Tom’s immediate reaction to seeing him is to walk back out.

…

The next day, he orders, “Tom, my office, now.”

Tom obediently follows.

Shutting the door, Cyrus says, “Okay. Normally, I honestly couldn’t care less what you do during your personal time. But your reaction last night was somewhat suspicious. If you’re involved in anything that could jeopardise the White House, your best bet is to tell me right now.”

Fidgeting slightly, Tom says, “I was hoping to find someone willing to do- private things with me. Consensual, private things I really don’t think you want or need further explanation of, sir. You and I see each other almost every day, and you have more influence with the President than I ever will. Maybe you couldn’t care less, but others might.”

Taking this in, he manages to get out, “That’s what- you left because you didn’t want me to see you pick up some woman?”

He doesn’t mean to laugh.

In something no one mentions but is vaguely aware of, Tom will never volunteer for duty on anyone who is overtly-religious. Yet, despite this, Cyrus occasionally finds himself mentally labelling Tom as ‘Catholic boy all-grown up’. There’s no indication Catholicism has ever played a part in Tom’s life, but some of the things Tom has said and done over the years have brought up memories of Janet.

Besides this, Tom has always come across as a sane man in a building full of insane people. He does his job with little more than a sigh, and aside from Hal, he’s never been close to anyone. He genuinely seems to like President Grant, but-

Outside of political games, Cyrus doesn’t particularly understand why people would take the time to wonder what the sex lives of co-workers might or might not entail, but he realises, if he did, he’d likely lean more towards the latter in Tom’s case. There’s not enough one way or another for him to label Tom as asexual, but he’s always automatically thought of Tom in an asexual context.

“Fine.” He manages to completely stop laughing. “I’m sorry, Tom. Hopefully, you and I won’t run to each other in yet another bar.”

“Is that all, sir?”

“Yes.”

…

Cyrus has almost forgotten about the bar instances when he’s in the White Press room making sure none of the new day-pass reporters talk to anyone they aren’t supposed to.

“No, you can’t talk to Secret Service,” he tells an irritatingly persistent blogger.

He’s still not sure how or why bloggers started getting issued day passes, and he wonders what James would think of such a thing.

“One Secret Service agent, Tom Larsen, and as I’ve explained, he and I have a mutual friend in Vanessa Chandler.”

“Cara, Larsen and Nessie weren’t friends,” a nearby photojournalist interjects. “He gave her a few anonymous tidbits, and she really wanted to- We both know her ability to pick out straight men was-”

“Stop talking about her as if she’s dead! She’s just missing. And since no one else will do anything- Whatever he is, whatever their relationship, maybe he’ll care enough to help.”

Chandler and Moss had friends and loved ones, hits Cyrus. The fact one of these loved ones is a persistent blogger who is determined to find her friend isn’t particularly surprising. Damn Ballard-

…

“Today, the bodies of BNC’s Vanessa Chandler and…”

“Those poor women,” Ethan comments. “I hope Agents Rimbeau and Larsen are okay.”

Suddenly, the rest of the earlier conversation floods back, and Cyrus looks over. “Did they know Moss?”

“Not that I know of,” Ethan answers. “But Miss Chandler- They liked her, sir. Or at least, Agent Rimbeau did. Agent Larsen mainly made sure he didn’t let his liking her cause him to do anything stupid, I think.”

If he weren’t exhausted from dealing with Ballard, he might find some sort of twisted humour in all this. If Tom Larsen is gay or somewhere else on the spectrum of liking men, him being afraid of his openly gay boss knowing-

Then, however, he remembers Tom’s words. Cyrus not caring won’t matter if others happen to find out.

…

He’s leaving for the night when he comes across Tom talking on his cell phone. “Are you sure you’re all right? Okay. Take care.” 

Hanging up, Tom sees him. “Mr Beene. Next week, I’d like to take a day off, but I’m not exactly sure which day yet. Hal is flying in for Vanessa, uh, Miss Chandler’s funeral.”

“Of course,” Cyrus says. “You and he knew her?”

“The President occasionally had us give her information on certain things.”

Cyrus wishes he’d known this during when he was trying to discover who Publius was.

“Whenever the funeral is, just call in that day. You don’t need to file a request beforehand. I’m sorry. I know it’s not easy hearing someone you worked with-” He finds he doesn’t know how to finish.

“Hal was convinced she’d gotten some deep undercover assignment,” Tom says, and Cyrus notices his voice is tired.

“But you knew better.”

Tom gives a small shrug. “There were signs she was working on something big. In some ways, Miss Chandler had loose journalistic integrity. Other than this, she simply wasn’t equipped to handle the big stories. However, her belief in the right of the people to know what politicians are and aren’t doing behind closed doors was sincere. Some will remember her as a hero. The fact she didn’t succeed isn’t as important as the fact she tried.”

In more ways than one, Cyrus thinks.

“Goodnight, Tom.”

“Sir.”

…

The day of the funeral, Cyrus sees Tom is on standing duty.

“What in the hell are you doing here?”

Giving him a slight look of surprise, Tom responds, “Sir? I was assigned to-”

“Today is Vanessa Chandler’s funeral.”

“Yes, sir. Hal and I went this morning. He ended up being one of the pallbearers. The cousin he filled in for managed to get himself arrested last night.”

Despite Tom’s matter-of-fact tone, Cyrus gets the feeling Tom is genuinely irritated and contemptuous over this unknown cousin’s actions. Before he can truly focus on this, however, he abruptly notices Tom is wearing a black suit and tie, and his normally gelled hair is gel-free and merely neatly combed.

It’s a good look on him. Tom’s suit aren’t ill-fitting, but they usually don’t empathise his physique, and he always looks younger and less guarded when his hair isn’t gelled.

“You’re allowed to take the whole day off.”

“I went for Hal,” Tom informs him. “He’s sleeping, now, and won’t be up until sometime tomorrow morning.”

…

After talking to Tom, Cyrus goes to his office and finds Ethan waiting. “Sir, there’s a Michael on the phone.”

“Michael who?”

“He said you and he have Elizabeth North in common,” Ethan supplies. “Is it Michael Ambruso? I thought- you took care of him, sir?”

“I took care of the person he was targeting. He, however, might prove to be useful in the future. I’ll take it in my office.”

Smiling, Ethan nods.

…

“Thanks for meeting me,” Michael says.

“This is against my better judgement. However, any photos of me sitting in a late night diner with a prostitute- no money shot there.”

Making a small sound, Michael nods. “What’s your daughter’s name?”

“Ella.” Digging out his phone, he pulls up the pictures. “She turned four last week.”

“I didn’t know about James Novak. Liz didn’t tell me that you were married or had a daughter.” Smiling, he hands the phone back. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yes, she is,” Cyrus agrees. “That was poor strategy on Lizzie’s part. That information could have helped your seduction attempt.”

“Yeah, well.” Michael plays with his napkin. “I could have looked more into you. I thought it would be easier if I didn’t.”

A waitress comes over, and they place their orders.

Once she’s gone, Michael says, “Look- you could have done a number of unpleasant things to me when you found out. I don’t think you’re anymore innocent than Liz is, Cyrus, but you didn’t. And I could have looked more into you, but Liz hired me to help set up a grieving widower with a toddler for blackmail without telling me what the full job was. So, if you’re interested, I have certain knowledge on Elizabeth North that I’d be willing to give you. And before you ask, there truly is no price. You didn’t go after me, and I have no reason to be loyal to her. This might make me feel as if you and I are a little more even.”

“I’m listening,” Cyrus says.

… 

Cyrus goes to a bar, sees Tom, and wonders why he keeps feeling as if this is a setup.

Tom doesn’t see him, and Cyrus studies him. He’s changed into jeans and a Navy sweater, left his hair ungelled, and is sipping some amber-coloured, likely virgin drink. It’s probably not soda. Hal had once good-naturedly teased Tom about Tom’s avoidance of coffee, soda, and M&Ms.

Making a decision, Cyrus comes over. “Out of curiosity, have you talked to Elizabeth North lately, Tom?”

Aside from a brief tensing of the shoulders, Tom shows no visible surprise. “No. Is she back again, sir? Since Jameson’s on maternity leave, I’ll have to see if I can get O’Hara to-”

“She’s not back,” Cyrus interrupts. “You didn’t sound happy about the fact she might be.”

“Ms North and the Vice-President’s relationship wasn’t a secret before someone made it known to the President, sir.”

Yes, it was, a tired part of him is tempted to protest.

“I’m sure whoever told him didn’t particularly care.” He orders a scotch. “It was likely just a way to get her gone. Politics. Which I’m aware, you and your apoliticism don’t understand or likely agree with.”

“I don’t particularly care about that,” Tom quietly says. “I doubt you’ll agree, but it might make you happy to hear, over the years, I’ve developed- With all respect to your marriage and daughter, I don’t agree with the idea of marriage. I’ve never wanted children. Relationships often make people stupid, to put it bluntly. The difference is, unlike people like Ms North and you, I honestly don’t care who does what. More accurately, I care very deeply if someone is being forced, but otherwise, it’s best to stay out of people’s relationships or sex lives.”

Tom takes a sip of his drink. “A few years ago, a good agent was almost transferred off the Grant administration because Mrs North read between the lines of his file and made assumptions. It took a friend of his saying just the right thing, essentially implying this agent had a girlfriend, to change her mind. This agent didn’t have anyone important, if he did have one-night stands, he made sure it never compromised his job, but-” Tom shrugs. “Then, she got divorced. Eventually, she proceeded to open up a massive conflict of interest by becoming involved with the Vice-President.”

“‘People like me,’” Cyrus repeats.

Looking over with calm eyes, Tom gives a slight nod. “You play with lives in order to further politics, Mr Beene. That isn’t an accusation or condemnation. It’s simply the truth. Everyone knows you do. The difference between you and her is you do it well enough that it can’t be proven. I’m sure if you’d wanted this agent gone, you never would have made it obvious why. And you both talk about upholding family values, which advances the protections and interests of certain types of family but trivialises and, at times, outright dismisses the other types of family.”

“Like you and Hal,” Cyrus supplies.

“Hal once saved my life. There are many people I’m required to take a bullet for if the occasion should arise, but he’s the one- Thankfully, he’s normal. He’s finally found what is hopefully the right woman. He’s bought a ring. I won’t have to worry much longer about people making assumptions about him due to certain people he’s determined to remain close to.”

“Tell me, Agent Larsen, have you broken your no-drinking rule tonight?”

Shaking his head, Tom answers, “Tea. I was at a funeral earlier. I watched my best friend manage not cry as he refused to let me be pallbearer for a woman we both knew. Goodnight, Mr Beene.”

…

Cyrus re-reads Tom’s file and eventually realises what lines Liz must have read between: In the Navy, a crewmate of Tom’s was brought up on charges for breaking the telling part of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and Tom was one of the ones who tried to help him appeal.

Tom wasn’t the only one, but for people who haven’t always viewed Tom under an asexual context, Cyrus can see how and why they’d find themselves wondering. Straight-laced Tom Larsen has never, as far as Cyrus knows, had a girlfriend or even just a date in all his time on the Grant campaign, and when it comes to his closeness with Hal, despite Hal’s clear heterosexuality, the question of whether Tom’s attachment to him is propelled by completely platonic feelings, though not exactly fair, isn’t an unfounded one.

…

When Cyrus calls Tom into his office, it’s subtle, but there’s an expression of Tom regretting most of his life choices on his face.

Cyrus himself is unsure about what he’s about to say.

“Before I was married, one night, you walked into a room. James and I were together. Do you remember that night, Agent Larsen?”

Confusion flickers across Tom’s face. “Yes, sir. I told you then-”

“I’ve always appreciated that, but that isn’t why I’m about to tell you this: The things I do, I do for one of two reasons. To either protect and serve the President of the United States, or to advance my own political goals. Sometimes both at the same time. As long as you do your job, you fulfil your usefulness. Despite my marked opinions on apoliticism, I agree that Secret Service shouldn’t be political players, and I wouldn’t try to make any of them into one. Whatever any friend of yours might be, whatever kind of person you might want to date or just have a night with, I couldn’t care less, and I don’t waste time talking about things I don’t care about. As you once told me, ‘I’m sure you’re able to assess for yourself if bringing them around might constitute a threat to you or the others.’”

Nodding, Tom smiles slightly. “Thank you, sir.”

…

In the café, Michael asks, “How’s your daughter?”

“She wants her toes removed. I have no idea why she wants this. Her nanny has no idea why. We’ve mostly ruled out it being due to discomfort from her shoes or socks, but to be safe, I’ve bought her new ones. Her paediatrician has assured me sometimes kids simply- this is apparently normal. My repeated attempts to explain why this can’t be done has fallen on deaf ears. She cries and glares, and in addition to wondering how it is I can broker deals with foreign royalty but can’t make a four-year-old happy, I fear James’s wrath.”

Sighing, Cyrus rubs his eyes and takes a drink of his coffee. “Sorry. The correct response is, ‘She’s fine, thank you.’”

“No.” A small smile crosses Michael’s face. “Uh, it’s not a problem. When- when I was about four or five, maybe six, an aunt gave me and my cousins ice-cream for our snack every afternoon. I wanted the ice-cream, but I didn’t want it to be cold. She offered to microwave it, but my mom kept trying to explain it wouldn’t be ice-cream if they did that.”

“They still could have tried it,” Cyrus comments.

“Yeah, well.” Michael looks down at his cup. “Conversion camp was worse. Much worse. They sent me twice. I’d say I ran away after that, but the truth is I told them I was leaving, and in response, my mother dropped me off at a bus station with a suitcase full of clothes and three hundred dollars.”

Cyrus feels pity and admiration for Michael mixed in with horrified anger at the realisation parents like this still and, unfortunately, always will exist.

Catching Michael’s eye, he quietly says, “I’m sorry. No one should ever have to go through something like that.”

“Thank you,” Michael says. “I’m not- What I tried to do to you is always going to be there, Cyrus, but I wanted to let you know the context. I didn’t have anything personal against you. I didn’t want you to be hurt, but I was willing to if- Her deal was the best one I’d ever been offered.”

“I’m not subtle about my grudges,” Cyrus tells him. “If I were holding one against you, you’d know. You- you strike me as a good person. If this is why you called-”

“It’s not,” Michael quickly interjects. Shifting, he says, “I’ve graduated.”

Laughing, Cyrus offers his hand. “Congratulations, Michael.”

Shaking it, Michael says, “Thanks. I also have a job interview lined up. I haven’t got the job, yet, but hopefully, it’ll be soon.”

“Good. So, that’s why you called?”

“In a way. Have dinner with me tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll pay,” Michael continues. “I could say that being seen with the White House’s Chief of Staff would do wonders for my street cred, which it would. I could say my friends, the ones who don’t know about me being a pro, are close to forcing me at gunpoint to go on a blind date and me willingly going on a date on my own would finally buy me some peace, both of which are also true.”

“But,” Michael leans back and smiles, “the truth is you and Liz are the only non-clients who know what I do I could celebrate with. The friends who do know, they aren’t the type- you have to be careful when and where you take them out in public. Liz offered me a good deal, but she’s never done anything truly nice for me.”

“And I have?”

“You’ve met with me for coffee several times and talked to me like a normal human being after you found I was going to give information to your rival. Mainly, I just want to celebrate with someone who has some idea of what this actually means to me. Two men having dinner, it’d take a lot of effort to make a story out of that, Cyrus. Have dinner with me, like I said, I’ll pay, go home after, and maybe, someday we’ll meet again.”

“I’ll pay for my half,” Cyrus says. “Where’d you like to go?”

Michael smiles brightly and looks at him with soft eyes.

…

He and Michael are arguing over whether letting a child watch the Liberty Report constitutes child abuse or not when he sees a tuxedo-clad Tom walk in.

Michael glances over. “Secret Service?”

He knows Tom would never be a client of Michael’s, but all the disturbing implications of how Michael would be able to accurately peg someone as such with just a look-

“Stop panicking,” Michael orders. “One of my uncles is a cop. He had a lot of army buddies he kept in contact with. I hated having to visit him, but one good thing that came out of it is I can almost always spot a cop or someone with military background in a room full of people. When I was taking night classes, there were a handful of Secret Service agents who were, too, just to fill their time. They never talked about their jobs, but when your job depends on being able to read people, you pick up stuff even from people who will never be clients.”

Cyrus can’t help but smile.

“What’s that look for?”

“You truly are an impressive person, Michael,” he sincerely says.

Looking back over, he sees Tom has seen him, and when a waiter starts to lead Tom by, Tom stops. “Mr Beene.” He gives a polite nod to Michael.

“Hal’s in town?” Cyrus guesses.

“He and his fiancée. I didn’t know they were coming until two hours ago.” With a slight look of guilt crossing his face, Tom adds, “President Grant is the reason we’re eating here.”

“We all want Hal to be happy,” Cyrus offers.

“Sir,” Tom agrees. “Enjoy your meal.”

“You, too.”

The waiter leads Tom away, and soon enough, Hal and a pretty woman join Tom.

…

“This wasn’t the deal,” Michael declares.

“I said I’d pay for my half, and I did.”

“Anyone would read the clear implication I’d pay for mine in that,” Michael protests. “You could have, at least, let me get the tip. I didn’t ask for this because- I really did just want to celebrate with someone-”

“I know,” Cyrus says. “I give press briefings on occasion. Don’t make the mistake of thinking the implications of my words can be trusted. And,” he catches Michael’s eyes, “I do admire most of what you’ve done. I hope you’ll continue going after the life you want and succeed. That’s why I paid tonight. Don’t read anything more or less than that into it.”

Hesitantly, Michael nods. “Thank you.”

They stand up to leave, and moving over, Michael leans down and kisses his cheek. “I hope you’ll be able to be truly happy again, too.”

…

Karen Grant is out to destroy herself and everyone else.

After calling Ella’s nanny to let her know he won’t be coming home tonight, Cyrus finds himself looking down at four different files. Karen slipping her detail has resulted in the general inspector being called, and this has led to the revelation there’s a possibility Maya Pope had a Secret Service agent steal the meningitis responsible for killing Jerry.

Tom Larsen’s I.D. was used, and there are some irregularities in Tom’s schedule, but of course, Tom would never hurt Jerry. Someone must have either stolen his badge, used it, and returned to him before he knew it was missing or gotten their hands on it just long enough to clone it.

Whoever did this hacked the security cameras at Fort Detrick and shut them off. They didn’t leave any fingerprints, and it’s unlikely other forensic evidence will be found.

The other three agents- two have irregularities in their schedules, too, close to when Jerry died, one had reported his badge as missing around the same time, and one of them has done absolutely nothing wrong. The only reason she’s on the list is due to the fact she was struck with the same strain of bacterial meningitis Jerry was infected with when she was 21, and miraculously, she managed to survive.

However, in her case, the inspector general is operating under the theory she might have felt confident enough to handle the bacterial meningitis precisely because she’s already survived it.

He’s debating taking some aspirin when the phone rings.

…

There’s now evidence Jake Ballard, of all people, killed Jerry.

Cyrus knows he didn’t, but to say he’s not happy at the prospect Ballard might soon be dead-

Someone delivered an anonymous tip written on the stationary from B6-13’s Acme paper company front accusing Ballard. A security camera shows Ballard and Harrison Wright arguing over something shortly after Jerry’s death and before Wright ended up with an untraceable bullet in his skull and buried in the woods (Ballard buried Chandler and Moss in the woods, hovers around in Cyrus’s head). A raid on Ballard’s apartment showed a number of cloned Secret Service IDs, including Tom’s and the other suspected agents. It’s no secret Ballard and President Grant weren’t getting along at the time, and before there was even a funeral for Jerry, Liv and Ballard were taking off for some unknown island.

It all fits together rather neatly, but there are still unanswered questions.

More than the questions, however, as much as Cyrus would like to not have such certainty in this one instance, he simply _knows_ Ballard didn’t do it.

…

 “It was Tom Larsen under Rowan’s orders,” Jake Ballard repeatedly insists.

…

One of the things Ballard brought in was photos taken at the Springfield rally. In one of them, Tom has his hand on Jerry’s shoulder.

No one seems to be paying any attention to it, and Cyrus wishes someone would.

Every time he sees it, his stomach drops.

Staring at the picture, he tries to figure out why.

There’s a ring on Tom’s finger. Cyrus vaguely remembers seeing it on that day, and he had- whether he’d found it odd then or not, he does now. Tom has never worn a ring on-duty, and Cyrus can’t remember ever seeing him wearing one off-duty, either. 

Moreover, Tom doesn’t touch people. If physical contact is necessary to protect someone or he needs to carry a protectee child, yes, but otherwise-

Shortly after Fitz had been shot, in the hospital, Cyrus had reached over to touch Tom on the arm or shoulder, and Tom had responded in kind. When Tom and Hal have been on-duty together in the past, there’ve been a few times Tom has touched Hal, but usually, Hal was the one more likely to initiate physical contact.

This is ridiculous, he tells himself.

Tom would be smart enough to cover his tracks. Tom is Coordinator of Secret Service, a position the eyes and ears of Command-   

He’s not going to take the word of the man who killed his husband over- Tom is a good agent, a loyal patriot-

Tom is stoic, intelligent, and good at keeping secrets. Ballard himself is proof that, compared to the likes of Rowan and Charlie, dealing with the insanity permeating the White House would be a cakewalk-

“This is ridiculous,” he repeats aloud.

But it would make more sense than Ballard, is the thing. It would make more sense than the other three agents.

Rowan wanted Liv sent off to some island somewhere. He wanted his wife caught and punished. Making Liv think her mother had killed the child of the man she loved-

He’d need a loyal agent to do the deed for him.

Hal pops into Cyrus’s head, and he remembers how much Hal used to adore little Karen Grant.

Teddy wasn’t in Springfield, and Rowan or Tom or whoever was responsible might have reservations about killing a toddler or a young, teenage girl, or maybe someone decided Fitz’s firstborn child, his firstborn boy, the soon-to-be man bearing his name would hurt the deepest. Maybe they thought it would hurt the least.

Motivation isn’t truly important.

The question is: Is it plausible Tom could be a deep-cover B6-13 agent who carried out the assassination of Jerry Grant?

The answer is: Out of all the Secret Service agents, Tom is the _most_ plausible.

…

Eventually, he sends Ethan home and tells him not to come in until the day after.

He’s still trying to convince himself he could be wrong and figure out what to do if he’s not when there’s a knock on his door, and Tom comes in with a cup of coffee. “Mr Beene.”

 _I have a daughter_ briefly flits through his mind before he orders, “Shut the door, Tom.”

Doing so, Tom brings the coffee over and sets it down. Stretching, he goes over to the windows. “The President and Miss Pope are fighting. Everyone is keeping Mrs Grant out of things. She’s sleeping right now. Dave thought it might be-”

“Tom, are you B6-13?”

He instantly recognises his mistake in asking this when he can’t see Tom’s face. There might have been a slight stiffening to Tom’s body, but things such as confusion to the simple fact Tom’s body is already tense from standing on his feet all day and late into the night could easily be the most straightforward explanations.

Turning, Tom looks at him. “Sir?”

“That isn’t a yes or no. B6-13 is a highly classified underground CIA organization whose main purpose is to torture and assassinate any threat to the United States and protect the Republic from ruin. Rowan, also known as Olivia Pope’s father, Eli, heads it. At one point, Jake Ballard took control from him, but he got it back.”

Needless to say, if Tom isn’t B6-13, Cyrus is painfully aware of how momentous the mistake he just made was.

“Are you part of it?”

Straightening, Tom stares.

Finally, he says, “Jake Ballard will be deemed responsible for Jerry’s murder. It’d be best if you took what comfort you can in your husband’s murderer being punished.”

Feeling close to crying, Cyrus rubs his forehead and eyes. “I’d applaud you if- You killed a fifteen-year-old boy. He liked and trusted you. Fitz and Mellie trusted you with the lives of him and his brother and sister.”

“I have no proof, but I’ve always suspected you were the one who ordered Amanda Tanner’s death,” Tom calmly counters. “The baby she was carrying might have been President Grant’s. You’ve stabbed people who liked and trusted you in the back, Mr Beene. You helped cover up Daniel Douglas Langston’s murder by his wife in order to keep her in your pocket.”

Right, of course, Tom would know enough of Cyrus’s dirty laundry the threat of, never mind any actual attempts to do so, Cyrus trying to expose him would be laughable.

“I imagine my lack of political opinions isn’t bothering you right now. This won’t make you feel any better, but I’m going to tell you, anyways: I wouldn’t make such a big move without Command’s permission, but you and I share not wanting President Langston in common. I would have preferred killing her. Command had different ideas, and so- Jerry Grant became a sacrifice. I didn’t have anything against him. He was a good boy. However, this country, the Republic, needs a great leader. In this case, a great man in the form of President Fitzgerald Grant. I’d like a woman to hold that office someday, but not her.”

Silence fills the room.

“What do I have to do to protect Ella? My daughter?”

There’s a flicker of genuine confusion across Tom’s face, and then, he scoffs.

“Other than not leaving her alone, nothing. She’s Olivia Pope’s goddaughter. However, even without the family ties, a black, little girl, a toddler, Command would never deliberately target such a person. Still, I imagine if something has to be done about you, even with all the money and Olivia Pope watching over her, life will be lonely, alienating, and hurtful for her. Two fathers dead, no mother or siblings, and one of the few powerful men who genuinely worked hard to make things better for people like her birth mother and people sharing her skin colour is no longing making that mark on the world.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Cyrus. Don’t mistake that for me being unwilling to if I have sufficient reason. Let Ballard die. Let me continue doing my duties. Do yours.”

“Leave,” Cyrus orders.

Tom wordlessly complies.

…

Jerry is dead.

Fitz mourns his son every day. Mellie’s grief has made her an absolute mess. Liv thought her mother was responsible, is still now unsure if she was or wasn’t, and, whether she’s in love with him or not, she does genuinely love Ballard and is facing losing him.      

Tom shouldn’t be able to get away with all this.

Tom isn’t wrong that Cyrus has gotten away with the things everyone, including him, would agree were much worse. He’s not wrong that, however lacking Cyrus might be as a parent, him being alive is better for Ella than her being an orphan.

…

When Cyrus sits down, Michael looks up from his chili cheese dog. “As nice it was, I was surprised to get your call. Here.” He hands over a container of yogurt and a spoon. “Sorry, but for some reason, I’m starving. I wasn’t sure what to get you, but yogurt seemed like a safe bet.”

Cyrus chuckles. “Thank you.”

“What’s going on, Cyrus?”

“When you and I had dinner to celebrate your graduation, there was a Secret Service agent there. Tom. Do you remember?”

Making a small noise, Michael nods. “I wondered why Liz didn’t try to use him. What’s he done or not done?”

“I’ve just sat down, and already, I have a feeling I’m missing an entire conversation.”    

“And that answers that,” Michael quietly says. A brief smile crosses his face. “Or technically, it answers a question I’ve known better than to verbalise. He was sitting at a table with a beautiful woman and his best friend in a place filled with breath-taking decorations. Every few minutes, he glanced over at our table. Wonder what he was looking at, Cy,” he finishes with a pointed look.

Cyrus scoffs. “That ridiculous implication has two plausible alternatives. Either he was looking at you- assuming he does like men, that wouldn’t be surprising, or there’s the fact he’s practically a workaholic. It’s his job to keep an eye on certain people, me being one of them.”

“Oh, he likes men. Trust me. Sometimes, I can tell, but with him, I don’t know what that makes him. He didn’t care about me one way or another, and he only looks at his best friend like a protective brother would. I think he liked the fiancée well enough, but he had no interest in her outside of him. What is obvious is the fact he’s a goody-goody has less on the fact you were faithful to your husband.”

“He knew me before I ever even met James.”

Michael shrugs. “That wasn’t that long ago, but look at how much the world has changed in that time. Maybe Liz just didn’t see it.”

Amused, Cyrus swallows his spoonful of yogurt and looks over. “How’ve you been doing, Michael?”

“Good. I’m glad you called. I was wondering if I should. I’ve accepted a job in California.”

“Oh. Congratulations.”

“You going to tell me what this Tom guy has-”

“We’re talking about you, now. Are you seeing anyone?”

“No. I, uh, have a friend who I’d hoped- he doesn’t condemn my time as a pro, but well, for some men, something like that is always going to be a deal breaker. I’ll get over him. I’m one of those people who’s been picturing my wedding since I was teenager, and I know that, someday, those dreams will come true.”

Reaching over, Cyrus squeezes his arm. “Good for you. Maybe send me an email when you do.”

“How’s Ella?”

“She’s good. Apparently, she’s obsessed with Barney the Dinosaur.”

Finishing his chili cheese dog, Michael laughs and wipes his face and hands. “You know that you’re lucky to have her, but she’s lucky to have you, too. Whatever’s going on with this Tom guy, good luck. And take care of yourself, Cyrus.”

…

Ethan tries to find balance in all the rumours he hears on a daily basis.

Recently, Agent Larsen has stopped coming to Cyrus’s office with reports and rosters and started sending other agents to do it.

Before he started hearing things, he hadn’t given much thought to the matter. Vice-President Ross recently removed a Navy servicewoman from her base without permission, Mrs Grant is running for Senator, and someone has leaked Former Vice-President Langston sensitive White House materials. As Coordinator of Secret Service, Agent Larsen has his hands so full that him tossing a report at some lower agent and directing them to Cyrus’s office is a good use of time and resource management.

(Though, apparently, most bosses don’t just fling paper at their underlings and bark orders. More likely, Agent Larsen hands the necessary papers over and simply says he needs them to take it to Mr Beene, and the agents who are trained to risk their life on a daily basis do so without actually fearing for their lives or jobs.)

However, others don’t take this view. The general consensus is Agent Larsen did something wrong but not wrong enough to get himself fired or reassigned.

For all the uneasiness he’s had around the man, Ethan can’t believe this. For one, he doubts Cyrus would be particularly quiet about it if Agent Larsen had, and aside from this, Agent Larsen is simply too professional to do anything inappropriate or make any big mistakes.

There might have been something, though, because, Agent Larsen is here, now, and he looks as though he’d rather be absolutely anywhere else.

“Come in, Tom,” Cyrus says.

Despite Cyrus’s neutral tone, Ethan gets the distinct feeling Agent Larsen is restraining himself from shoving the papers in his hand at Ethan and running as fast as he can in the other direction.

…

“Hal’s getting married next week.”

“Good for him. Are they having the wedding down in-”

“Am I going to have anything to worry about if I go to his wedding, sir?”

It hits Cyrus what the question is.

“B6-13 has already taken my husband. I’m not going to risk my daughter. His daughter. I’m aware you and I are truly at the point of mutually assured destruction, Tom.”

Getting up, he goes over and pours some Scotch. “That doesn’t mean I won’t indulge in some pettiness. I notice Jake Ballard is still very much alive. You covered your tracks well, but if Rowan gave you an order to kill him, you obviously dropped the ball. Olivia Pope is still working tirelessly to free him.”

“Mutually assured destruction,” he repeats. Setting the glass down, he continues, “So, no, this isn’t a threat: Careful, Tom. She hasn’t won the war, yet, but she’s won several battles against her father already. If she goes after you, I won’t jump onto her wagon. However, the line stops at me doing anything to actively protect you.”

“That’s fair,” Tom states. “Is that all?”

“Leave the request on my desk. Extend my best wishes to Hal and his new bride.”

…

Cyrus swears he’s going to fire Ethan.

First, however, he has to deal with Sally Langston.

“You cannot run this-”

“The American people have the right to know-”

“Tell me, Sally, did you like it when your daughter’s abortion was broadcast all over national television? Did she suffer no repercussions from-”

“What you did,” she cuts in. “No, I didn’t, and yes, my baby did. The difference being you aired the private medical information of an underage child, whereas, your Congressman is-”

“I didn’t do that!” He pauses, and rubbing his head, he admits, “Or at least, I don’t think that was me.”

It strikes him he really should know all the horrible, despicable things he has done. The fact he’s not even sure of all of them anymore-

“Hm. Whether you did or didn’t, you threatened it, and one of your ilk eventually followed through.”

“Sally, if you do this-”

“Sir.” Ethan’s head pops in. “Agent Larsen has-”

“Not now, Ethan!” Taking a breath, he says, “Sally, if you do this-”

“You’ll do what,” she challenges. “We both know this about the President’s newest healthcare bill and him needing Congressman-”

“Jesus healed people for free, Sally! He didn’t expect them to buy absurdly high insurance that only covers a bare minimum-”

“Don’t you dare try to challenge my faith and devotion to the Lord, you heretic, Cyrus Beene,” she snaps. “You’ll lose.”

Seeing Tom has come in and is curiously watching him (he’ll forgo firing Ethan and simply kill him), Cyrus glares before turning away. “‘Apostate’ is likely the more accurate term for me. Look, Sally-” He takes a deep breath. “Could we please discuss this like reasonable adults? Yes, I badly want that bill passed, as does the President, but you know that I don’t take exposing the private, personal, let’s be real, often disgusting aspects of people’s lives lightly. Eventually, another opportunity for this bill will come up. All you’re going to do is cruelly expose a mistake that a Democrat Congressman once made and paid for and make him pay for it all over again.”

“If the American people believe he hasn’t paid enough, that’s up to them,” she responds. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe this conversation has run its course. Goodbye, Cyrus.”

She hangs up.

Groaning, Cyrus stalks over, opens the door, and demands, “Ethan, what in the hell is Agent Larsen doing in my office?”

Ethan stares. “Uh- um-”

“Why do I keep you around?”

Re-shutting the door, Cyrus says, “Whatever you want or need, Tom, give me five minutes.” He digs out his cell phone, and when the nanny answers, he leans against his desk. “Susie, is Ella still up?”

“Yes, sir. We’re having a book club with her dolls. Another all-nighter?”

“Looks like it. Can I talk to her?”

“Of course. Ella, sweetie, your daddy’s on the phone.”

“Dada,” Ella greets.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you doing?”

“Good. We’re reading the first Harry Potter, the one with the stone inside the magic mirror. I read eight pages all by myself.”

“Really? Eight?”

“Uh-huh. And Susie made the apples brooms and witch cats, kitties, and also hats, too.”

“That’s great. Did you tell her thank you?”

“Yes, and I gave her some of my graham crackers because I was full when I finished the apples and two of them.”

“Good. Um, look, baby, I’m probably not going to be able to come home tonight. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Ella says. “Is Ethan there?”

Trying to ignore the pain at her dismissiveness, he answers, “No, not right now. I’ll tell him you said hi.”

“Thank you. I love you, Dada.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

“I’m back,” Susie says.

“Thank you, Susie. I’ll try to call in the morning.”

“Try to come home and eat,” she says. “We’re having breakfast tacos.”

“Sounds great. Bye, Susie.”

“Goodbye, Mr Beene.”

He hangs up. “Alright. What is it, Tom?”

Handing a folder over, Tom answers, “Agent Leland Morris failed the random drug test administered this morning.”

Reading it, Cyrus asks, “And why wasn’t I told this morning?”

“I just got the results, sir.”

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. Alright,” he hands the folder back, “you tell the President.”

“Yes, sir.” Tom hesitates. “What is Mrs Langston planning on revealing?”

“Unfortunately, nothing that would justify getting Secret Service involved. Our once eighteen-year-old Congressman was too stupidly horny to take his seventeen, only twelve days away from eighteen, year-old girlfriend to a motel and got caught in the backseat of his Mustang with her. This would be fine, everyone was reasonable enough not to slap a sex offender label on the poor dope, but oh, no, he was cheating on said girlfriend. As a result, she got genital herpes, and Sally is good enough to make an adult man screwing an underage girl and leaving her with an incurable STD sound like, well, that. People aren’t going to see a stupid teenage boy who did recklessly hurt someone but paid for his mistake when she’s done.”

“What about the ex-girlfriend?”

Cyrus looks over. “What?”

“How does she feel about all this?”

“She died in an apartment fire three years ago, and she has no close family that’s going to object to this coming out. I imagine most of her friends aren’t either.”

Tom nods. “It wasn’t Ethan’s fault. I snuck past him.”

“He shouldn’t allow people to sneak past him!”

“Given what you know about me, sir, do you really think it’s fair to apply that to him in my case?”

This causes everything inside Cyrus to halt, and he gives a short laugh. “You make a compelling point. Go talk to the President.”

Tom leaves.

…

Cyrus’s phone rings at six in the morning.

Rubbing his eyes, he answers, “Cyrus Beene speaking.”

“Don’t think that I won’t eventually go after your Congressman, Cyrus Beene,” Sally’s voice informs him.

“What?”

“Throwing one of your own Republicans, a senator, no less, under the bus- Well, that despicable man deserves to pay far more than-”

“Sally, it’s six in the morning. I’ve spent all night trying to do damage control for your upcoming interview. What Republican did what?”

“Oh, this is interesting,” she says. “Watch my show today, Cyrus. And don’t worry about your precious bill. For now.”

…

Sally is right: The senator deserves absolutely everything she throws at him.

On another good note, the bill passes.

He can’t figure out how Sally got this information, however, and she’s less-than-inclined to help him.

He’s heading to the press room when he spots Tom talking to someone, and he finds himself wondering-

Coming over, he orders, “Tom, my office.”

When they get there, Cyrus shuts the door. “Was it you? Who gave Sally the information about Senator Jackson-Finley?”

Tom nods. “Anonymously.”

“Not that I’m not glad for the end result, but why?”

“It’s my job to protect my fellow agents and the other people within the White House from you,” Tom suggests with a small smile.

“Huh. Funny,” Cyrus says. “The real reason?”

Playing with the buttons on his jacket, Tom is quiet for a moment. “I’m not your enemy, Cyrus. I know you think I am, but I’m not. We both serve this country. Killing children- it isn’t a regular occurrence for me or something I’d decide to do on my own. This country and our President were both in a dire situation, and it was Command’s job to determine the best way to fix that. Whether another option would have been better or not, his worked. It was my job to carry out his orders. If the call had been mine, Sally Langston would have been dead.”

Before Cyrus can respond, Tom quietly adds, “And if the call had been mine and not Jake Ballard’s, David Rosen would be dead, not your husband. Not Vanessa Chandler, and likely not Shelby Moss, either.”

Hearing about James always hurts, but hearing it from the revealed-to-be B6-13 Tom doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it might. He’s not angry.

“And- now that you know what I am, I could help you on occasion. With my job here, I can’t do some of the things Charlie does, but for things like this, I could. The difference is, you wouldn’t have to pay me. If not, fine. We’ll just call this me sparing the nearby people from your wrath.”

There’s a knock on the door.

…

After Agent Larsen somehow managed to sneak past Ethan (and Ethan miraculously didn’t lose his job over this fact), things have more-or-less gone back to normal. Agent Larsen comes every day with rosters and occasionally delivers reports.

Unfortunately, Cyrus is tired, cranky, and Ethan is probably about to lose his job over the fact Agent Larsen has been sitting in Cyrus’s office for about fifteen minutes.

“Uh, sir, Agent Larsen is-”

“I don’t care,” Cyrus grumbles. “Go home, Ethan.”

“And come back tomorrow?”

“If you don’t want a drone sent after you, that would be advisable. We now have eleven-year-olds who can hack military drones. Do you know how easy it is to break an eleven-year-old out of a juvenile holding facility? The answer is: It’s so easy, an unemployed, twenty-year-old meth head can do it.”

Cyrus all-but slams the door, and Ethan sets the ‘Get Cyrus a large box of brownies and make sure to overload his coffee with sugar’ alert on his phone.

He wants Cyrus to be healthy, and from a national security standpoint, it’s important Cyrus doesn’t die anytime soon, but sometimes, plying Cyrus with sugar falls under the definition of protecting the mental health of multiple people, including Cyrus himself.

…

Cyrus sees Tom sitting on his couch, momentarily wishes he’d listened to Ethan, and then, decides he truly doesn’t care.

Taking his belt off, he starts on his tie. “What is it, Tom?”

“I got the information you wanted on Senator Grant’s opponent.”

Wishing he’d thought to take a shower yesterday morning, Cyrus tugs his shoes off and takes off his cufflinks. “We’ll go over it tomorrow.” Pushing his coat rack over in front of the couch, he declares, “My couch. I’m stretching out.”

Sitting down, he stretches his arms across the back of the couch, props his feet on the bottom of the rack, and slumps down. Closing his eyes, he says, “Let me guess, forbidden romance or run-of-the mill yet outrageous sex scandal?”

Tom makes a noise of agreement.

Cyrus opens his eyes, turns his head, and looking up, asks, “You ever get lonely, Tom? You weren’t wrong about love making people stupid. That’s part of why B6-13 doesn’t allow anything serious, but even Rowan wouldn’t be deluded enough to wage a war on his agents having some fun. So, without asking for any explicit details, if you do get lonely, what do you do?”

“It depends on what I can do,” Tom answers.

Pulling himself up, Cyrus stretches his arms in front of him and brings his fingers to his wedding band. “I suppose that’s all anyone can do.”

“What- what about that man you were having dinner with? When Hal and his fiancée came for a visit?”

“Michael?” Cyrus smiles at the memory. “He’s in California. That wasn’t a date. He’s a good man, but at one point, he was a threat. I neutralised the threat aspect. Besides, I’m not lonely. I just find myself wondering how it is so many people are so lonely they end doing stupid things.”

“It isn’t always loneliness,” Tom says. When Cyrus looks over, he continues, “Sometimes, it boils down to simple desire. Wanting someone’s touch so badly, every time you’re around them, you can practically feel it. Almost being able to taste them but having to contend with the fact you’ll never know that one taste. Being desperate to make them smile, because, whenever they do, everything feels right and good inside of you.”

Cyrus groans.

If he didn’t know better, he’d say Tom Larsen has had experience with being in love.

“Right. Up,” he orders. “I’m lying down.”

Tom complies.

Easing himself down, Cyrus says, “There’s a pillow and a blanket in my bottom left drawer. Get them for me.”

“You’re sleeping here?”

“Ella’s grandparents, James’s parents, are visiting. I can’t stand to be in the same house with them all night. And almost everyone on staff at the Grand District Hotel knows all about me. I’m too tired to find another hotel.”

Bringing the pillow and blanket over, Tom hands them to him, and he can see Tom is visibly hesitating over whether to say something. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Get the lights on your way out.”

…

Ethan is coming back for his keys when Agent Larsen comes out of Cyrus’s office, and- Ethan wishes he hadn’t forgotten the keys.

Once the door is closed, Agent Larsen softly beats his head against the wall, makes an abortive move towards the doorknob, and casts what can only be described a longing look at it before taking a deep breath, buttoning his suit coat, and squaring his shoulders.

Feeling awkward and sympathetic, Ethan comes over and cheerfully greets, “Hey, Agent Larsen. Done with Mr Beene?”

Putting on an obviously forced smile, Agent Larsen nods. “He’s sleeping in there tonight.”

“Yeah, he does that sometimes. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Agent Larsen answers. “Just a little tired. Goodnight, Ethan.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

Watching him walk away, Ethan finds himself re-evaluating several things.

What if something did- during the time when Agent Larsen wasn’t delivering rosters? Ethan knows Cyrus wouldn’t make a move, but what if- or what if Agent Larsen’s feelings just-

“Oh, God,” he mutters.

Cyrus is sleeping in the office, and, combined with how tired he was, he probably undressed with Agent Larsen in the room. There’s nothing wrong with this, but it could send the wrong impression or just- well, cause someone with a crush to bang their head against the wall. Aside from possibly Miss Pope, Cyrus wouldn’t do this with a woman in the office, but another man, he wouldn’t think twice about.

At the moment, this isn’t my business, he decides. It’s best to keep my eyes on things but stay out of them for now.

…       

Charlie wakes up, looks over, and grunts. “It’s- what time is it, Golden Retriever?”

“2:34.”

“‘In the morning’ is the part of that answer you neglected to add,” Charlie grumbles. “What’s going on?”

“I need to cash in several favours. Possibly all of them.”

Sitting up, Charlie says, “I’m listening.”

“Maya Marie and Ballard both escaped.”

“What? I mean, Ballard, I can see, but Command’s girl had her mama put in-”

“Had. She’s out, now.”

“Oh, well, this is just great. Command is going to frickin’ flay all of us. Where,” he yawns, “does the favour bit come in?”

“Assuming he doesn’t, she knows I killed Jerry.”

“How would- Stupid question. Still, crazy terrorist says the same thing other crazy terrorist says: White-bred, decorated Thomas Larsen did it. Might raise some eyebrows, but-”

“Cyrus Beene knows, too. He hates Ballard, but he doesn’t particularly care one way or another about her. He knows she’s right, and if he can get something out of this in exchange for helping her bring down a B6-13 agent, he will. He has a daughter. Jerry’s murderer walking around the White House every day doesn’t sit right with him.”

“Go after the kid?”

Tom glares. “I’m not going after a four-year-old girl.”

“Look, I’d love to wipe out all the favours you’ve accumulated over the years and maybe have you owe me, but you don’t need my help to get out of town. You obviously want to stay. I don’t see how I can help you. I can’t kill her, well, maybe, I could, but without Command’s say so, no way in hell am I. Me threatening her, c’mon, Golden Retriever, even I’d laugh at that. I’d rather not kill the chief, but you want to call in a favour-”

“No,” Tom says. “You’re still close to Perkins. What are the chances Olivia Pope would go against her mother to help the one who killed Jerry?”

“I dunno. She hates Mama Lewis, but she’s big into the Prez. Ballard, too. How exactly does the chief know, by the way?”

Tom tosses his cell phone onto the bed. “Get rid of it.” Standing, he goes over to the nightstand and withdraws one of Charlie’s gun and a burner cell. Loading the gun, he says, “If Command asks, tell him he can find me when he needs me.”

“Bag of cash in the closet and half-eaten casserole in the fridge,” Charlie offers.

“Thanks.” Tom starts to close the drawer when he notices the box of condoms and lubricant sitting on the nightstand.

“Oh, yeah, Robin was over earlier. We-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Tom orders. Picking up the box, he reads the back and does the same with the lube.

Then, he slips a handful of condoms and the bottle into his pocket.

“Uh, not that I object, but- look, good for you if you’ve decided to have some fun for yourself in the bedroom, or at least, I’m assuming a bed would be utilised, but if you’re thinking of trying to seduce the chief to get out this mess, I’m telling you, the chances of that working-”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions, Charlie. If I do get lucky, it’ll likely be a couch. And I’m well aware Cyrus Beene, in addition to holding certain moral beliefs, is too smart have sex that could be used against him or as leverage. He neither needs or wants to trade anything for it.”

“Just making sure. So, who is the person you’re hoping to-”

“Goodbye, Charlie.”

Before Tom gets to the door, Charlie says, “Hey, seriously, Golden Retriever. You’re on borrowed time here, but you’re going to see if a quickie is in the cards. That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I’m not drowning, and I’ll never be at risk of it,” Tom responds.

“Great, now you’re doing nonsensical weather metaphors, too. Can’t you, Command, Ballard, and Pope Girl Junior ever just…”

…

The door opens, and Cyrus looks up from his breakfast. “You aren’t dressed,” he comments. “I mean-”

Tom is wearing a pair of black pants and a matching sweater.

“For work, I mean. Sorry, it’s been a long-”

“What would your reaction be if I said I’d really like to have sex with you?”

Cyrus knows he didn’t just hear what he thinks he heard.

One look at Tom’s face, however-

“Care to repeat that, Agent Larsen?”

“You heard me.”

“I heard something. What I heard-”

“I’m not lonely. You are, but I can’t really do anything about that. I’d like to have sex with you, but I’m not going to do anything but extend the offer. Anything else I needed or wanted, you know that, as a B6-13 agent, I could get them without resorting to that.”

“Just so that I understand this correctly, you’re not lonely, you aren’t going to get anything out of it, but you want sex with your- what!?”

“I’m sure I’d get a lot out of it, but again, it wouldn’t be transactional. You don’t have to be lonely to want someone. If you’re asking why now-” Tom sits down. “Regrets. I’m glad I walked in on you kissing James Novak. You have Ella, and for a time, you were happy with a man you loved. I didn’t need distractions while I was building my career. Now, though, you know exactly what I am. I don’t have to pretend I don’t know exactly who you are. It’s come to a point where, if I don’t take a chance at getting what I want, I’m probably always going to regret it.”

“Okay, see, I can understand that part perfectly. The part I’m questioning is where I’m- and you want-” He rubs his temples.

If Tom were a normal person, the conversation wouldn’t have gotten this far. Cyrus long ago worked out what he was to do if he ever would himself being propositioned by someone he worked with. He’d simply never devoted time to what to do if said person happened to be B6-13. 

“I’m B6-13. We don’t fall for normal people,” Tom states. “Command unknowingly married a terrorist. Jake Ballard is in love with their daughter, and you know better than most what all Olivia Pope can do. Charlie is stupidly in love with Quinn Perkins, who’s less normal than she’d like to believe herself. The one with Miss Pope, he’s not in love with her, but she’s the god her father could never fully be to him. Out of all of them, I probably ended up with the best hand. I know who and what you are, and unlike them, I’m not going to be stupid enough to find myself drowning when you don’t love me back.”

“You might want to clarify that last sentence,” Cyrus says.

Giving a small shrug, Tom’s face doesn’t change. “I’m not going to fall in love with you, Cyrus. Outside of B6-13, you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve met. I’ve wanted to touch you for a long time. That doesn’t mean I want to build a life with you. Thankfully, you don’t want that, either.”

Cyrus stands up and goes over.

Staying sitting, Tom looks up at him.

…

Pleasure surrounds Cyrus, and laughter threatens to bubble out of him.

Until now, he’d never had sex in his office and, especially, not on his office floor.

Beside him, Tom presses soft kisses across his chest and shoulder.

Shifting slightly, he studies Tom’s face. His expression is softer than normal; the few times Cyrus has seen a similar one is when he was with Hal. More than this, however, he’d almost say Tom looked at peace.

Abruptly, however, what might be the unpleasant sensation of what is likely rug burn catches up to him, and Cyrus carefully shifts. “I’m not sure it would have been much- but there is a couch in here.”

“More room down here,” Tom says. “And your desk.”

Cyrus had been monetarily worried when Tom had grabbed the bottom edges of the desk with his hands, but Tom had made it clear he might hurt Cyrus if Cyrus stopped. 

“That is true. Still, next time, I’d say a bed-” Realising the assumptions he’s just made, he hurriedly tries to clarify, “Uh, that is, I mean-”

Tom catches his eye, says, “I’d like for this to happen again,” and kisses him. Sitting up, he continues, “In fact, I’d like for it to happen again right now, but unfortunately, I have to make sure Jameson doesn’t-”

Carefully getting up, Cyrus interjects, “No one is going to miss O’Quinn if he falls victim to friendly fire.”

“True, but the paperwork alone-” Tom grins as he pulls his clothes back on.

Cyrus has just gotten most of his back on when the phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Cy, Olivia’s mother has escaped,” Fitz says.

“What? Marie Wallace? Maya Pope? Whatever she’s calling herself?”

In the corner of his eye, he sees Tom halt his movements.

“Yes. Sometime last night.”

“We’ll be right there.” Hanging up, he says, “She’s escaped. Last night.”

Tom exhales. “Between whatever Command’s going to want and trying to protect the President when he or Miss Pope decide to do something stupid, we aren’t getting that bed tonight, are we?”

“Not likely,” Cyrus agrees with a sigh of his own. “He’ll want both of us. We can walk together.”

“I have a suit in my locker, I’ll go-”

“Now, Tom, not after you’ve changed and clocked in.” Going to the door, he continues, “Every minute she’s-”

He pauses when he sees Ethan.

“Morning,” Ethan cheerfully greets. “I came in early because-”

“Not now, Ethan. Tom and I have urgent security matters to attend to. Uh, stay out of my office today, and don’t let anyone else in either. Do you think you can handle that?”

Giving a small wave to Tom, Ethan answers, “Yes, sir.” Then, “Oh, um, sir? Your tie’s-”

Already walking away, Cyrus declares, “On it!”

In the hallway, he finds himself gently pushed against the wall. “Here,” Tom softly says.

As he’s doing Cyrus’s tie, Cyrus realises Tom has a case of bedhead.

It’ll be fine, he decides. His rumbled suit and Tom’s causal clothes and messed up hair aren’t going to make anyone draw the conclusion they were together. People might suspect Tom was with someone, but Cyrus has shown up with his suit crinkled in odd places enough times people are just going to assume he pulled another all-nighter and didn’t have his extra-suit around.

…

“She didn’t escape for very long,” is the first thing Fitz says. “At the moment, she’s in the bunker.”

Beside him, Tom has a subtle expression of feeling as if he’s being yanked around.

“I wouldn’t advise keeping her there,” Cyrus says. “How did she escape this time?”

“Rowan thinks a rogue B6-” Fitz glances over at Tom. “Tom, go get coffee.”

“Yes, sir,” Tom agrees.

Once Tom has disappeared, Fitz continues, “B6-13 agent helped her escape. He wants them found.”

“Any idea who this agent is?”

“No.”

…

When Tom reappears with two coffees, Cyrus sets Fitz’s down, takes his, and manoeuvres Tom out. “Please,” he says with a drawn breath, “tell me you weren’t the rogue agent who helped her temporarily escape.”

“A rogue agent?” Tom looks positively murderous. “No, definitely not. Any chance you can tell me a name?”

“If I had one, gladly. Rowan is being tight-lipped.”

Tom leans against the wall. “I knew the day couldn’t get any better, but once you said yes, I didn’t think it possible for it to become bad. But it keeps getting worse and worse.”

“Yeah, sorry. I would have warned you, but usually, it’s only people who get emotionally attached to me that end up suffering.”

Shrugging, Tom replies, “I’ll take the risk.” He pushes off the wall. “And after all this is over, assuming I don’t end up in a hole or worse, I-”

Fitz comes out, and Tom moves away.

“I’m going to the bunker,” Fitz announces.

…

Maya smiles. “Have you told my Livvie, yet?”

Before Fitz can answer, however, she makes a small noise. “Who’s this, then?”

Unfortunately, she’s looking straight at Tom.

“Special Agent Tom Larsen, ma’am,” Tom politely answers.

“I’m sure someone once told you were you special. Tell me, are you important, or were you just the nearest available? Seeing as how it’s obvious what you were doing before you got called in.”

Half of Cyrus is tempted to step in front of Tom, and the other half is tempted to get out and above ground as quickly as possible.

Of course, one look at Fitz’s face makes it clear it isn’t obvious to him, and Maya scoffs. “My poor girl. A grown woman, and this is what she’s hung up on? Please. Secret Service doesn’t dress like this on-duty, or at least, not in the White House. Seeing as how the general public knows this, I’d hope the President of the United States would have worked this out by his second term. Besides that, he doesn’t strike me as the type to generally go for the pull wrinkled clothes on as quickly as possible type. Look at his hair.”

Tom does what he does best and stands very quiet and still.

An awkward, apologetic look crosses Fitz’s face, but thankfully or not, Maya continues, “Sorry, Tommy boy, I’m leaning towards the latter. Look at what our President brought to meet the mother of his mistress: A workaholic who, judging by the state of his suit, pulled an all-nighter, and you. You don’t have a gun, but if you’re any sort of agent, that won’t matter. You could kill me or stop me from killing him. Still, I imagine that-”

“Why are you so interested in Tom,” Fitz demands.

This, Cyrus reflects, is a good question. Tom’s B6-13. Did he know Maya before now?

More than this, he realises he made a mistake. When he was called, he automatically assumed Tom should come along, and he brought what everyone assumes to be a normal Secret Service agent, an off-duty one, no less, to come down to where the wife of B6-13’s Command is.

She laughs. “I just told you. He and this- I’m assuming bureaucrat?- are what you choose to bring. I wonder, is he faithful to his wife, or does he use girls like my Livvie to-”

“Husband,” Tom quietly interjects. “Mr Beene had a husband. Carjacking.”

Even knowing this isn’t the time, Cyrus is compelled to say, “And yes, I was always completely faithful to him.” 

“Hm.” Maya leans back. “The agent who helped me escape fell into the river with a hole in his head. This was all to meet you, Mr President. I wanted to meet the man who tried to kill me and turned my daughter into-”

“Olivia is not my mistress. She’s not a whore or whatever term you want to throw towards your own daughter,” Fitz interjects. “My marriage to Mellie was destroyed long ago. It was neither of our faults, and it was both of our faults. We decided to stay married regardless. You’re no mother, but if you were, I would tell you Olivia is the love of my life.”

Looking back at Tom, she says, “I hope you don’t buy that. Have you met Olivia Pope? She’s special. You can either be like these two men, or you can be like her. Screw around, make someone work for it, work for it yourself, but don’t make promises, and more importantly, don’t ever let anyone else make you promises. White-bred boy like you, you couldn’t keep anyone like my daughter. And you couldn’t even be kept like she is.”

“That’s enough,” Fitz declares. “We’re leaving. Agents will be here shortly.”

…

Fitz is preoccupied with everything else, and as soon as he can, Cyrus drags Tom away. “Did you know her before now?”

Shaking his head, Tom lets out a small breath. “If you mean have I been in a room with her before now: Yes. She knows my name. Knew it. But I promise you, Cyrus, I wouldn’t help her escape.”

Suddenly, he reaches over grabs, Cyrus’s hand, and brings it up to his own throat. “I don’t know if you can feel it, but see if you can.”

Making sure to be careful, Cyrus moves his fingers along Tom’s throat and stops when he thinks he might feel a faint irregularity. He’s not sure whether he is or isn’t, though, and if Tom hadn’t said anything, he never would have noticed by touch.  Moving closer, he tries to see if he can see anything.

“It was a taunt when she said I could kill her or stop her even without a weapon. She once had a knife against my throat, and she dug the blade in. I still don’t know if she intended to kill me or not.”

Cyrus’s stomach twists violently at the thought.

“I survived,” Tom offers.

Trying to banish the thoughts, Cyrus asks, “Do you think she was telling the truth? This was all about her being in the same room as Fitz?”

“No one fully knows her, and no one ever will. If there’s one person she’d never physically hurt, it’s Miss Pope, but even that can’t be said with certainty. I don’t know,” Tom answers.

“You better get changed and sign-in,” Cyrus says.

He starts to walk away, but Tom grabs his wrist, holds him in place, and carefully gives him a quick kiss.

…

Tom sits down across from Maya.

“I hope you have an endgame,” she says. “But, even though you didn’t ask, I’m warning you right now: Trying to make an endgame out of that man would backfire spectacularly.”

“I’m aware. I wanted him, and last night, I had him. That’s all.”

“Really?” She shakes her head. “You’ve truly become a man, Tommy. I don’t understand what appeal you could possibly see in that old, white man who’s gone through two spouses, a heart attack, and has a little trophy black Orphan Annie he pawns off on some high-priced nanny, but you’re desperate for another round, aren’t you? It’s pathetically easy to see.”

“I work long, hard hours, I’ve never been very good at interacting with normal people, and one thing he’s not is ever boring. Besides, age, race, health, and family ties doesn’t determined whether a person is good or not when it comes to sex.”

“Well, they can,” she says. “But not always, true. Livvie destroyed B6-13, baby boy. What are you still doing?”

“I’ve never been very good at interacting with normal people,” he repeats.

“Choose Eli, then. Have as much fun as you want, as you can, with Cyrus Beene, but when it comes down to him or Eli, choose yourself as best you’ve ever been able to and go with the latter.”

“What’s your endgame?”

She laughs. “Go back to Eli’s White House. Protect his boy he’s letting screw my baby, have some fun with Cyrus Beene, and be prepared for anything. Eli thinks he’s going to eventually have the White House through Olivia. If that place is what she wants, fine, but Eli’s time will come to an end soon enough. Still- choose him. You know, unless you give me a reason, I’ll never hurt you too badly.”

Nodding, he stands up, adjusts his suit jacket, and leaves.

…

Olivia swears she has no idea where Jake Ballard is, and for tonight, Cyrus is inclined to put his husband’s murderer out of his mind. Somehow, everything settles down enough he and Tom do end up at the Grand District Hotel.

He isn’t complaining, but: Tom doesn’t have much experience.

If he thinks about it, this isn’t particularly surprising. However, it does make him wonder if the real reason Tom propositioned him- if Cyrus were the type to try to pick up someone in a bar, there would have been times when his own inexperience would have made him hesitant to do so, especially when he got older and everything else about him would have suggested otherwise.

It doesn’t matter, he decides. We’re both consenting adults, and this probably isn’t going to last long, anyways.

Cyrus’s phone chimes, and Tom stirs out of his dozing.

Reaching over, Cyrus looks down at the time and suddenly feels awkward. Sitting up, he says, “I need to get home to Ella.”

Nodding, Tom pulls himself up enough to give him a gentle kiss. “I understand.”

…

Maya studies Fitz intently.

“Did you kill my son?”

Genuine puzzlement crosses her face, but it’s quickly gone. “Oh. That’s the story. That Eli sold to you to get his little organisation back. No. Let me spare us both: No, it wouldn’t be beneath my non-existent moral code to kill a teenager. No, I don’t care that your boy is dead. You don’t have my sympathy. I’m not sorry for your loss. But I’m not responsible for it, either. I had no knowledge of it until now.”

He studies her. “That agent who was in earlier, Tom Larsen, he was accused by a B6-13 operative of doing it. I’ve never believed that, but- Why were you so interested in him?”

Making a small noise, she comments, “That’s not surprising, I suppose. B6-13 is more old boy’s club than Eli’d like to admit. A lot has been invested in Cyrus Beene. Assuming the carjacking wasn’t real, they waited some time to take his husband. Now, though, some fresh-faced, Catholic boy, if I had to guess, of an agent has wormed his way into your Mr Beene’s bed. Or maybe vice versa. It doesn’t matter. Whether he ever tries to use his influence or not, he has it, now.”

“Cyrus Beene and Agent Larsen,” Fitz incredulously scoffs.

Leaning back, she gives a careless shrug. “Of course. Where do you think he was that he was able to come so quickly with last night’s clothes on? I’m guessing, when you do your own ties, you do a four in hand knot. Liv most likely does a Grantchester knot. Who knows what your wife does? Or it is her who does the four in hand?”

“The point is, Cyrus Beene prefers a full Windsor knot. If I had to guess, I’d say probably a Kelvin knot is Agent Larsen’s style, but who knows? It’s unlikely it’s a full Windsor, however. He didn’t do badly. I-” She laughs. “I suddenly feel so old saying this, but in my day, you could almost always tell when a new wife or girlfriend did her man’s tie for him. The inexperience showed. Usually the devotion, too.”

Fitz stares.

…

Ethan isn’t sure when it exactly it started or why, but almost every day, Agent Larsen has lunch with Cyrus in Cyrus’s office. This in combination with some rumours he’s heard about how Agent Larsen might be seeing someone-

Seeing the man in question has arrived, he greets, “Agent Larsen.”

“Ethan,” is the polite reply. Then, Cyrus opens the door, and Ethan would swear Agent Larsen’s whole face lights up.

This is going to end badly, is Ethan’s gloomy thought on the matter.

Cyrus isn’t- well, Cyrus is a political player and disdains stupidity in everyone, and so, therefore, he can be cruel. However, unlike many political players, Cyrus doesn’t personally use sex or romance to get what he wants in the political realm. It’s one of the things Ethan has always really liked about him.

It’s gotten easier, but Cyrus still deeply mourns James.

If he’s having fun with another person, Ethan would be completely happy for him, provided this person isn’t technically his subordinate who has an increasingly obvious crush on him.

If he is, and it isn’t Agent Larsen, though- Ethan still feels pity for the other man. He knows from experience what it’s like to want someone but know there’s no chance.

…

“You do not get to remain neutral on the topic of DADT,” Cyrus declares. “I’ve read your file. And unlike Elizabeth North, I didn’t think much of it, but you helped a shipmate appeal a conviction for breaking the tell part.”

Tom shrugs. “He was stupid in getting caught, but when it came to linguistics, he was brilliant. There are unfair requirements and regulations in every job. In comparison to some of them, not talking to your co-workers non-stop about this person you want a chance with or what all you do with whoever you’re seeing isn’t unreasonable.”

“You know it goes deeper than that,” Cyrus says. “I’m just not sure if your, at times, disturbing lack of empathy is in play or not.”  

He knows Tom occasionally gets annoyed at listening to his fellow agents talking about their love lives, although, if he was annoyed with Hal doing it, it wasn’t quite at the same level.

“I have empathy.”

“Occasionally. Often, when you do have empathy, it’s over things that normal people wouldn’t.”

“I understand your desire to be viewed as a normal person,” is Tom’s mild reply.

Biting back a laugh, Cyrus says, “Fair enough.” He finishes his food. “But- if you weren’t- if you and I were- Imagine a scenario where you were allowed to have a normal relationship with someone and did. Now, yes, even in this scenario, you being a private person could very likely still be in play, but would you really find it easy to never talk about this person in that context? Would you find it fair and right?”

“If I needed or wanted to talk to someone other than the person I was in a relationship with about our relationship, I could find someone I didn’t work with.”

“You don’t understand why someone would need or want that, do you, Tom?”

“Hal still occasionally talks to me about his relationship,” Tom quietly answers. “I don’t mind. But I’d never talk to him about what you and I do.”

“Even if we were normal, that would probably be a good idea.”

Smiling, Tom leans over to kiss him.

…

Realisations sometimes hit Cyrus with no warning.

Tom’s in the shower, Cyrus has just finished talking to Ella on the phone, and he finds himself wondering what in the hell he’s doing.

Sleeping with an assassin is not the stupidest, most dangerous, or even most questionable thing he’s ever done (and isn’t _that_ saying something?), but- it suddenly bothers him how he doesn’t really know Tom and that he knows he never will.

Aware he could be proven wrong, he doesn’t think Tom is sleeping with him in order get the upper-hand or otherwise take advantage of him. It’s just- Tom never complains when he has to reschedule or leave early. Tom has gained enough experience he could go out and pick some else up without worrying, and for all Cyrus knows, Tom might have already or will someday. 

He knows a few of the more trivial facts about Tom and the important fact of Tom being B6-13, but he doesn’t know much about Tom beyond this. He doesn’t know how Tom feels or thinks about so many different things, and he’s never been sure what precisely Tom feels towards him.

In addition to this, he can admit he failed badly, but there were times he did try to make James, Janet, Ronnie, and the ex-girlfriends he had happy. A one-night stand is what he’d thought would happen with Michael, and he was prepared to have sex and go on with his life without giving any deeper thought to who Michael was. Since this is deeper than a one-night stand, however, he’s faced with the fact he’s sleeping with someone he has no idea how he could make happy even if he wanted to.

Tom comes out. “Everything alright with Ella?”

Nodding, Cyrus stands up. “Fine. I probably should have listened when someone told me I’d regret letting her watch the Star Wars prequels.”

Even if he hadn’t been able to understand her offence at “the mighty-thingies” and her treatise on how anyone can be like Luke Skywalker and have the force, because, Yoda had said so, it’d been nice to hear her talk so much.

Giving him a slight smile, Tom reaches over and starts to do his tie for him.

“I might not be able to make it this Friday,” he continues.

Finishing the tie, Tom nods and leans down to kiss him.

Returning it, he briefly runs his hand through Tom’s dampened hair. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Tom agrees.

…

“Ethan, I’m going out for lunch.”

By this, Ethan takes it Cyrus probably didn’t call or send Agent Larsen a text and, therefore, it’ll be Ethan’s job to break it to him when he comes by.

Not my place to judge, he immediately reminds himself. There’s never been any indication of this, but it wouldn’t surprise him at all if Cyrus happened to have a sense for when underlings are thinking bad things about him.

“Yes, sir,” he says.

Besides, he reminds himself, there’s still no proof they are doing anything non-platonic together.

…

For a week, Cyrus manages to only see Tom during increasingly awkward roster meetings.

Then, Tom slips into his office (murderous thoughts towards Ethan are apparently of no use). “Are you avoiding me?”

“What? No, right now, I’m trying to deal with the fallout of yet another sex scandal. If I can be smart enough to not be taken in by a hooker, I don’t see why-”

“Congresswoman Leland’s photos were leaked two hours ago. Olivia Pope is on the case, and we both know, if you call her more than once every hour, she’ll just block your number. Did I do something wrong, Cyrus?”

“This is not an appropriate workplace conversation, Agent Larsen.”

Clear hurt crosses Tom’s face, and Cyrus bites down the urge to apologise.

“Asking a Secret Service agent, Coordinator of the Secret Service, in fact, if they’re part of a highly classified underground CIA organization at 4:18 in the morning outside of an interrogation room isn’t exactly an appropriate workplace conversation, either, Mr Beene,” Tom calmly responds. “However, I notice you didn’t have much hesitation or fear in doing so when you were convinced it was a good possibility.”

“Okay,” Cyrus sighs. “Fine.” He rubs his temples. “What we’ve been doing- outside of work, we need to stop.”

“Why?” Tom sits down.

Cyrus has broken up with exactly one person in his life, if irrevocably driving the best man he’d been fooling around with behind his fiancée’s back out of his life can fall under the definition of ‘breaking up’, and he’s suddenly confronted with why this is: As Tom just implied, he can be a coward when it comes facing issues involving people he’s intimately involved with.

Getting up, he comes around and leans on his desk. “Before we start, I’m going to remind you that it’s unlikely Rowan wants me dead at this moment. I’m sure you could kill me right now and get away with it, but the thing is, I’m not sure you’d have enough time to come up with a decent reason for doing so if Rowan asks why. I’ve always thought the ‘it’s me, not you’ speech was a weak way to try to pacify the other person instead of respecting them enough to give them an honest answer.”

“But-” He shakes his head. “This really has everything to do with me and my issues than anything to do with you, Tom. And that’s all you really need to know.”

“I’d like to know more.”

“And yet, we don’t always get what we want.”

Tom reaches over and briefly trails his fingers across Cyrus’s knuckles. “I don’t let my feelings compromise my job, and I wouldn’t hurt you or anyone else over refusing to sleep with me. Are you afraid of hurting me beyond that, Cy? You don’t need to be. I’ve always known this had a time limit. I just didn’t expect it to end so soon.”

“I don’t do causal sex very well,” Cyrus blurts out. “Or- It’s not that I want a relationship. You can’t have that, and I’ve screwed up enough in my life that I’m sick of them. But I don’t know you on a personal level, Tom, or at least, not very well, and it turns out- The person I am isn’t one who can be okay with doing that for long. Believe me, it’d be easier if I could.”

Tom’s smile is small and cautious. “I can’t tell you much about B6-13, but you’re free to ask me questions, Cyrus. Without bringing politics into it, I’ve always very much been a ‘you don’t ask, I don’t tell’ person. That doesn’t mean I mind people asking. Outside of what I can’t tell you, there isn’t much I object to letting you know.”

Cyrus considers this.

“You could go out and find someone- someone else to sleep with. You find me interesting, and we both know-” Groaning slightly, he says, “Neither of us is an innocent, and we know that about one another. We don’t particularly judge one another for it. But why me when you have a plethora more options out there?”

“A few months ago, I tried,” Tom reminds him. “You being there each time wasn’t intentional, but I took it as a sign. You weren’t the first, Cy, but you were the first I’ve been with in a long time. One of them was normal. I liked her. She was interesting, too. But-” Tom pauses. “I felt guilty. If she were a mission, I probably wouldn’t have, but in a way, it felt like she was. She fell asleep next to me. And that was one of the rare times I truly questioned what I was doing. She had no idea what sort of person she’d done such personal things with. That her feeling safe enough to sleep next to me was a joke.”

“I didn’t hurt her too badly. Physically, I didn’t hurt her at all. I just- she wanted more, to see where things could go, and I tried to be gentle in letting her know that wasn’t going to happen. She accepted it easily enough, but it did hurt her some.”

“And thankfully, so far, she’s been the only normal person I’ve been with in such a way. You and I both know what it’s like to work long hours. To occasionally have to take our work home. We may not know one another on a deeply personal level, but we both know enough that neither of us has to pretend.”

Part of Cyrus almost bites out, _I’m convenient, how flattering_ , but mostly, he finds himself much more at-ease with what he’s been doing. He finds, until the expiration date absolutely has to come, he doesn’t want things to end with Tom.

Standing up, Tom reaches over to play with Cyrus’s tie.

“I’m sorry,” Cyrus says.

“Next time, just talk to me,” is Tom’s simple response. He leans down to kiss him.

Cyrus hadn’t let himself think about how much he’d missed Tom’s kisses until now.

Unfortunately, there’s a knock on the door, and they just barely break apart before Ethan is popping his head in. “Oh, uh, sorry. Agent Larsen, I didn’t realise you were- Sir, there’s a hostage situation in France. The President-”

“On my way,” Cyrus says. Striding out, he asks, “Briefing Room 1?”

“Four, sir. One is still being cleaned after Agent Malone-”

“Don’t remind me,” Cyrus warns.

…

Tom is warm and pliant in his arms, and even being aware this definitely isn’t the best time to ask, Cyrus finds himself inquiring, “How can you strive to not have political opinions of your own?”

Twisting so they can see each other’s faces, Tom responds, “What’s the point when I know for a fact people like you, Command, and Miss Pope manipulate things behind the scenes?”

Thrown, Cyrus realises, even after he found out about Tom being B6-13, he never considered something like this. There are arguments, but admittedly, right now, he can’t think of a single good one.

“Not just protecting certain people and exposing the dirty laundry of others,” Tom continues, “but if B6-13 wants a certain person, it doesn’t matter whether the vast majority of people want them or not, that’s who will rise. When B6-13 doesn’t care enough to install someone, other men and women already in the highest offices decide who will stay, leave, or join them. Even regular people know that, if they choose to cast a vote, it will only matter sometimes. The popular vote doesn’t always decide.”

He presses closer against Cyrus.

Stroking his arm, Cyrus says, “But you didn’t want Sally Langston.”

Tom’s quiet for a long moment, and then, he turns so he’s facing Cyrus but not looking at his face.

“There are always going to be outcasts. Before TV, radio, and internet, people still cared about the policies of their elected leader, but they usually didn’t care much about them as a person. If a person who was- different grew up in a small town with no privacy and judgemental people, they still had a chance of one day finding somewhere better. If a person lived in a place with harsh laws, they might be smart or lucky enough to avoid being caught or punished if they were.”

“Now, if some American child, some teenager or young adult watches or hears or just reads about how the President of the United States finds them wrong and declares he or she knows God feels the same way, I wonder how many will also die at fifteen. How many will even make it to that age? That’s not even taking into account how much cultural influence America can have on other countries and continents.”

Cyrus suddenly feels a large surge of affection he’s not sure what to do with for Tom.

He supposes this is why, after kissing Tom, he lets himself fall asleep.

…

The next morning, he tells Susie, “I’m sorry I didn’t call last night.”

“It wasn’t a problem.” Handing him a cup of coffee, she hesitates. “Mr Beene, Ella understands what happened to her father. She also understands that, sometimes, after a grownup loses someone, a wife or husband or just someone they love dearly, they find someone new. I’m aware this isn’t my place, but if you’ve found someone who might be important to you, maybe, you should consider introducing her to him. I’m not sure if she has any truly concrete memories of Mr Novak, but she’s always going to know who he was and that you loved him dearly.”

Cyrus realised long ago he literally cannot afford to ever be unjustifiably snappy, sarcastic, or anything but polite towards Susie. James found her shortly before his death, she has a special way with Ella, and she was willing to become a full-time, live-in nanny in exchange for getting her father into a private hospice and paying off the student debts of her younger half-brother.

This doesn’t mean it’s easy to tamper down the urge.

Taking a few breaths, he shakes his head. “This person I’ve been seeing, it isn’t serious. And aside from that, it’s not that he’s- It’s just, I don’t think him being around her would be a good idea.”

“Understood,” she says.

Before he can stop himself, he asks, “No judgement?”

Shaking her head, she pours some cranberry juice for herself. “When I was two years old, I more-or-less adopted my newborn baby cousin as my own. My best friend growing up was the type of person who hated kids even when we were kids.”

Smiling slightly, she shrugs. “How and why we became friends is still a mystery. Some adults are very good people who, nevertheless, shouldn’t be around children for both the children’s sake and their own. Sometimes, parents end up liking a person like that, and they’re left with the unenviable task of deciding how to navigate that with doing what’s best for their child. If you find yourself needing help with that and I can provide it, I’ll be happy to, but no, no judgement.”

“I’m so glad James found you,” he sincerely tells her.

She gives him a gentle smile. “So am I. Ella will waking up soon. Are you going to stay for breakfast with her? We’re having blueberry pancakes and omelettes. She likes hers with onions, tomatoes, and cheese, but I can make you something different.”

“No, but thank you.” He lets out a small sigh. “You’re not turning my child into a vegetarian, are you?”

“No, but you might want to prepare yourself for her possibly making that decision when she’s older. Ella naturally tends towards white meats, and even then, she usually prefers vegetables and grains. I’m still trying to introduce more fruits into her diet.”

“Good luck,” is his only comment.

…

He’s working late on preparing for the interview Fitz and Mellie are set to give when Tom brings him dinner.

“You’re a godsend,” he declares.

Smiling, Tom sits down on the couch and starts unpacking his own food.

Stretching out, Cyrus brings his over and sits down. “There are times when I wish they’d just divorce already. Politically, that would be a nightmare, but if we could all get through it, not having to constantly deal with all this might be worth it.”

“I used to feel sorrier for the President,” Tom says. “Unquestionably, he fell in love at the wrong time. Worse, he fell in love with what many consider the wrong person.”

“That’s changed?”

“To some people, Miss Pope-”

“No, I mean, now, you feel more sorry for Mellie?”

Several different emotions go through Tom’s eyes, but his words are matter-of-fact. “Whatever happened in their marriage, she married him because she loved him. She’s never stopped. I never particularly understood the quote, ‘If they really want to punish you, they don’t just send you to Hell, they give you a tour of Heaven first,’ until I took a closer look at her situation. She loves him, she’s had him, and now, she doesn’t. She never will again.”

Cyrus considers this and finds himself wondering if there’s a reference to himself and Tom buried in this. For all he was cautious about Tom’s motives at first, even if Tom does ultimately end up screwing him over, he can’t deny Tom genuinely wants him and wants to make him happy. There comes a time when a person sleeping with someone just knows.

The problem is, unlike everyone else he’s been involved with, he understood them. He knows more about Tom, now, he has a little understanding of B6-13 agents in general, but he’s not sure he’ll ever get close to truly understanding Tom.

Before he can consider what to say, however, Ethan bursts in.

“Oh, good, Secret Service. Uh, sir-” Ethan deftly removes the food from his lap. “This isn’t my fault, and you cannot kill or torture or- Agent Larsen, if you have your gun, _do not_ let him get close to you. Sir, you need to see this.”

Then, before Cyrus can even react to any of this, he’s staring at Olivia in front of her apartment building, and his blood freezes when he hears, “Olivia Pope, are you the President’s mistress?”

Calm down, he tells himself. Liv will handle-

“Yes.”

…

“I don’t care whose daughter she is or the fact that our idiot of a President will no doubt be happy about this, I will murder her! I will put her in the deepest hole I can find, and she will stay there for the end of time! She will be begging for Hell when I am done, and to hell if Heaven will ever find that- I’d call her a girl, because, this? This is not the decision any halfway intelligent woman who has ever had a shred of self-respect would ever make, but when my daughter, my four-year-old little girl, gets older and does something stupid or embarrassing or just utterly disrespectful, I will look back on this moment, and I will remind myself that, at least, what it is she has done will not even come close to approaching the level of this!”

Tom opens his mouth, but Ethan pops his head back in. “Senator Grant is still sleeping, sir. The President is with Miss Whelan. Vice-President Ross and David Rosen are coming.”

Grabbing his phone, Cyrus punches Olivia’s name again. “Tell me someone removed Senator Grant’s phone from the room and unplugged the TV and radio and anything else electronic that this news could be delivered via.”

“Uh, no, sir,” Ethan tentatively answers. “Only-”

“If Agent Jameson is still here, I’ll get her to,” Tom says.

“If Jameson isn’t here, you will get someone else to do it, if you have to do it yourself, or I will,” Cyrus corrects. Hearing the voicemail finishing, he grits out, “Olivia, I know you’re screening your calls. Call me, now!”

…

Tom sets a bottle of water in front of him. “Senator Grant is taken care of. Miss Pope will be here in about ten minutes.”

“Good,” Cyrus mutters. “I can crucify her, then.”

“The media has you beat. Have you called Ella’s nanny?”

Cyrus looks up in bewilderment.

Shifting, Tom says, “If she sees her godmother on TV, she might-”

“Oh, God. Thank you, Tom.” Taking a breath, he reaches over and squeezes Tom’s hand. “Really, thank you. That’s a good point.”

“I’ll give you some privacy.”

Once Tom has left, Cyrus calls, and Susie immediately answers with, “I’m taking Ella to the Botanic Garden, Mr Beene. Unless you’d rather I bring her to you. I saw the news about Miss Pope. Ella didn’t, but I don’t want to risk reporters coming here while we’re here and you’re not.”

“No, the Botanic Garden sounds great, Susie. Thank you.”

“I’ll call you later. She’s ready to go.”

“Thank you,” he repeats. “Bye, Susie.”

…

Tom has the look of knowing he’s about to regret telling Cyrus something.

It’s been a long time since Cyrus has seen such a look on him.

“Just tell me, Tom.”

“The reason Senator Grant was so calm earlier- After Elizabeth North and Vice-President Nichols left, they didn’t last. He’s moved on, sir. And so has the First Lady. Together.”

“What?” Looking up, Cyrus tries to make sense of what Tom is saying.

“The former Vice-President and Mrs Grant were together shortly before Jerry’s death. You didn’t know what I was, then. Miss Pope split them up. Now, however- they’re back together.”

Cyrus has already had three glasses of Scotch. He knows having more would, at best, be a bad idea, and at worst, be crossing some line.

Throwing his hands up, he stands up and starts pacing. “Why- My best man. When I was engaged to Janet, I did less-than-innocent things with him. And that isn’t good, and yes, I would have found a way to defend myself back then, but I’m not now. It was wrong and unfair to both of them.”

“But after that, there were several other opportunities, and I never took them. From the time I signed the marriage license until the divorce was finalised, I never touched anyone but her. It’s not because I kneeled and, then, stood in front of a crucifix and slid a ring on her finger. It’s because, when you love someone and decide you want to spend the rest of your life with them, you don’t break the promises that come with that. Or if you do, it shouldn’t be done lightly, and you don’t try to dodge the consequences of your misdeeds when they come.”

Sitting down on the couch, he rubs his temples. “After I married James, there were a few times I found myself looking at other men, but I never really wanted them, and if an opportunity had presented itself, I would have walked much easier and quicker than I did with Janet. And the thing is, I could understand a man my age being stupid and careless and tossing wedding vows or just the promises inherent in a relationship into the trash. I wouldn’t _agree_ , but knowing how people in my generation were raised, I could understand.”

“Fitz and Mellie and Olivia, especially, are all younger than me. Maybe the former two were somewhat victims of their time, but her? Why are any of them in this mess? Why did they marry if they weren’t prepared to be together for the rest of their lives? Or divorce when things changed? They could have recovered from that more than they will this.”

“And as for Liv, she could have almost any single man she wanted. Senators, Congressmen, business tycoons, lawyers, activists, Joe Schmo on the street. Why in the hell did she decide on a married man? Never mind Fitz being Governor or President, why would she being willing to be anyone’s dirty secret?”           

Taking a deep breath, he leans back.

He feels Tom carefully sitting down beside him.

“Your perspective is usually interesting on matters like this,” Cyrus tiredly says. “Let’s hear it.”

Tom shrugs.

Finally, he says, “She knew. Mellie Grant. She knew about the affair, and for a long time, she gave the impression of being okay with it. Hm. Maybe ‘okay’ isn’t the right word. Most of the time, she came across as indifferent. Occasionally, when it benefitted her or him, she encouraged it. Hal could never understand. As much as he liked President Grant and Miss Pope both, he thought she should divorce him and take the children. He probably would have gone with her if she had.”

“Then, she decided she wasn’t okay with it, and she tried to fight. It’s- not good to fight for someone’s love. I’ve never seen a person who did win.”

Cyrus looks down at his wedding ring. “Yeah, me neither. I wish I could disagree. Be able to say I have.”

“In Miss Pope’s case- I’m trying to be careful here, but to put it bluntly, I’m not sure you’ve ever truly wanted something you couldn’t have. You couldn’t be free and do things with other men or, not openly, at least, but eventually, you and James Novak found each other. Whether she wanted to or not, she fell in love with a white, married man who held a high office in this land. All these men she could have weren’t him. She wasn’t going to ask him to sacrifice all he had, all the good he could do. She took what could she get. Now, she’s decided, maybe, she can have more.”

“You’ve wanted things before,” Cyrus notes.

“I’ve tried not to. Rowan found me at an age earlier than he usually selects people. I wouldn’t have had anything if not for him. Having enough food and a warm place to sleep was enough to make me want to make him happy. That’s not an easy task.”

“And yet, it seems you’ve done better than most.”

Tom makes an affirming noise. “If I can get something relatively easy, I always consider whether I really want it or not. And if I want something that requires effort, something outside of my job and being B6-13, I always prepare myself for the possibility of losing it.”

“Where do I fit in all that?”

“I’ve wanted you for a long time, and for a long time, I knew I’d never get you,” Tom easily answers. “First, you were married to a woman. Then, you were in love with James Novak. You married him, adopted Ella, and I was just the Secret Service agent you vaguely trusted but didn’t know.”

“How’d you do that,” Cyrus asks. “How’d you manage to stay on the radar at just the right time and keep completely off it the rest of the time for so long?”

“A natural talent,” Tom answers.

Reaching over, Cyrus links his fingers through Tom’s, and he feels Tom almost tentatively squeeze his hand.

“Susie, Ella’s nanny, has taken Ella to her grandmother’s tonight. They won’t be back until nine tomorrow morning. I’m going home. Want to come with me?”

Giving him a startled look, Tom nevertheless quickly answers, “Yes.”

…

Waking up, Tom looks over.

Seeing Cyrus is soundly sleeping, he slips out of bed, grabs his gun and the bullets off the nightstand, quickly reloads it, checks the windows, and locking the door behind him, leaves.  

Near the kitchen, the lights come on, and he hears, “I liked it better before the nanny came into the picture. Who the hell feeds a kid frozen yogurt as a snack?”

Turning, Tom lowers his gun but keeps his finger on the trigger. “Charlie.”

“Of course, you’re even worse. I’d tell you to invest in some good ole non-perishable foods, but it’s not as if-”

“Are you here for me or Cyrus?”

“You,” Charlie answers. Looking Tom over, he continues, “Gotta say, I’m surprised to be wrong. How’d you figure out that seducing the chief would-”

“I didn’t- It’s not like that. If Cyrus ever sees a good opportunity to bring me down, he’ll take it.”

“Then-”

“Why are you here, Charlie?”

“First: No, really, did you waste time putting on your undershirt and underwear, or were you sleeping in them?”

“If I shoot you, there’s a good chance neither Cyrus or Command is going to care,” Tom warns.

“Right, well, remember when Ballard and Mama Pope escaped?”

“Yes.”

“Everyone thought she was safely put back in her maximum security cell, but it turns out, she wasn’t.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” Charlie hops on the kitchen’s island and laughs. “Someone digitally made it look like she was back. In truth, no one knows where in the hell she is.”

“What does Command want done?”

“I don’t know who he has handling this, but it isn’t me. This is just a heads up.”

“Thank you, Charlie,” Tom quietly says. “Now, leave.”

Sliding down, Charlie grumbles, “Really feeling the gratitude, here.”

When they get to the door, he stops. “You know, Cyrus once put a hit on his hubby.”

Staring, Tom asks, “James Novak?”

“Yep. During that whole Cytron mess. Called it off at the very last second. Still, something you should maybe know, now.”

“Why not David Rosen?”

“I dunno. I wasn’t going to suggest it after I had to spend hours following Novak around while he was getting ready for the kid’s homecoming. Speaking of, where is she?”

“I didn’t ask.” He opens the door. “Thank you for telling me.”

…

After Charlie is gone, Tom picks the lock to Cyrus’s door, unloads his gun, and slips back into bed.

Stirring, Cyrus murmurs, “Where’d you go?”

Turning on his side and arranging the sheets around him, Tom answers, “I thought I heard something.”

Reaching over, Cyrus pulls Tom towards him, and Tom wraps an arm around him and meets him for a soft kiss.

…

Maybe, Ethan lets himself think, this will be okay.

Cyrus and Agent Larsen haven’t done anything explicit, but- they’re definitely sleeping together.

The door to Cyrus’s office is opened, and he can hear the argument and see-

“No, Tom. I’ve always refused to have Secret Service at my house for good reason.” He bats the hand on his shoulder away.

“And before you had a daughter, there were good reasons. Jameson can have a detail set up in less than an hour, Cy. Do you want Ella to live at her nanny’s grandmother’s house? Because, the first time a reporter pops up, it’s either going to be that or you finding a new nanny.”

Cyrus pauses in his paperwork, and Ethan knows he’s looking at the picture of James and Ella on his desk.

“And that’s the best of all the bad that could potentially happen. Now, for obvious reasons, I couldn’t be on it or have any say in it, but Jameson is trustworthy, and she’d make sure only the best had eyes on the President’s goddaughter.”

Cyrus sighs. “Why are you so focused on this now?”

“Because I’ve been to your house recently,” Agent Larsen mildly answers. “Your security system is good, but if I wanted to get in unannounced, I could. Now, imagine some of the truly bad, unfettered people out there who have reasons to target you. What or, more accurately, who is the first thing they’ll strike?”

“My daughter isn’t a thing,” Cyrus snaps.

“You know that’s all Ella will ever be to them.” Agent Larsen visibly hesitates. “You also know there are people out there who will remorselessly kill a child. Some of them would never go after _your_ child, but there are plenty who wouldn’t have any such objections.”

After shooting Agent Larsen a dirty look, Cyrus gets up and stalks out. “Ethan, assuming she’s not dealing with the President’s mess with Olivia Pope, get Special Agent Jameson in my office as soon as possible. Agent Larsen, go sign in.”

While Ethan is calling, Agent Larsen starts to walk by, and Cyrus grabs his arm. “Assuming you still want to occasionally check into the Grand District Hotel with a certain someone, you have no one but yourself to blame if your fellow agents find out about this person,” Cyrus says almost too quietly to be heard.

In response, a small smile appears on Agent Larsen’s face, and he nods.

…

“After years of you and James refusing, you finally have a proper security detail,” Fitz comments. Pouring a glass of water, he asks, “How’d Tom manage to pull that off?”

“Ella has a detail, which, if her nanny objects to, will be disbanded. I’m not having Secret Service following me around outside of work,” Cyrus responds. “Speaking of security details, however, Liv-”

“Private, Cyrus.”

Both of their respective jobs make it a given it can’t and won’t be for long, but he’s too tired to fight this minute. “Sir.” He sits down. “What makes you think Agent Larsen had anything to do with it?”

Fitz takes a small sip. “He and Agent Jameson were talking about it earlier. He was pushing surprisingly hard for it, but after she met with you, he politely but firmly made it clear he didn’t feel it was necessary to know more than the bare minimum and that he wouldn’t be making any contributions. I’m not asking anything, but it seems you and he have become close outside of work.”

And of course, this conversation had to happen in the Oval, where B6-13 always has access, Cyrus despairingly thinks.

“In a way, yes, sir. There isn’t really much comparison between the two, but I miss James, and it’s started to hit him how much he misses Hal. And despite his apoliticism, he does have provide a unique perspective on certain issues.”

Fitz chuckles. “Well, that’s good. Just- be careful, Cy.”

Are you more worried about him or me, Cyrus wishes he could ask.

…

In retrospect, he should have kept tabs on Elizabeth North after she left the White House.

Hollis Doyle has decided being a rich S.O.B means he can run for President of the United States, and Liz running his campaign doesn’t matter anywhere near as much as the fact, according to the latest polls, America isn’t going to be laughing or booing him off the stage anytime soon.

Cyrus feels unbearably old.

He knows his history. Some of the Presidents of old would have no chance as serious candidates in this day and age.  Some of them were bad people, some of them were subpar Presidents, and some were a combination of both.

However, there is no clear equivalent to Hollis Doyle, and he simply has to believe the people of past would have refused on principle to seriously consider such a man.

Except, he finds himself unpleasantly thinking, this might be part of the problem. Everyone knows Mellie is going to run, and she and Fitz both have been pushing Susan to run as her VP, despite Olivia’s careful words of caution.

There will be legitimate male candidates, but right now, Hollis is the most visible.

Cyrus supposes, after years of playing by the rules of the old boy’s club and accepting the benefits- he genuinely wants a woman President and a black one and, if he’s extremely lucky, someday one openly on the spectrum of sexuality minorities.

In the past, he helped push Mellie into the role of housewife. He’s never done anything to truly help a female candidate that wouldn’t help whatever male candidate he was trying to propel or cause he was championing.

And now, he’s going to find some other man everyone will think has a good chance against Mellie in order to hopefully push Hollis out of the picture.

There’s a knock on the door, and Tom comes in. “You almost ready?”

Groaning, he says, “Right. Uh, Tom, I’m sorry, but we can’t get dinner tonight.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just a side project I need to get started on. Maybe we can get together for breakfast.”

“Okay.” Closing the door, Tom comes over. “Is Ethan going to bring you something later?”

“Yeah.” He stands up. “I’ll try to remember to send you a text when I leave.”

Nodding, Tom leans down and kisses him. “Night, Cy.”

“Goodnight.”

…

Ethan gets back from a coffee run just as Agent Larsen is coming out of Cyrus’s office. “Ethan.”

“Agent Larsen.” He sits down.

“Are you going to bring him something to eat later?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Ethan assures him. “James made sure I was well-trained.” Quickly, he adds, “And the President and Miss Pope, too. I won’t let his crusade against Hollis Doyle see him starve or survive off vending machine chips and candy.”

“Thank you.” Then, Agent Larsen hesitates. “Isn’t Hollis Doyle a Republican conservative?”

“He worships money above anything and anyone and will adopt whatever political position will get more,” Ethan declares. “But uh-” He glances over at Cyrus’s door. “Also, he’s homophobic, racist, and sexist. Before Cyrus managed to get him banned, he used to refer to James as Cyrus’s ‘wife’.”

Something resembling a scowl passes Agent Larsen’s face, but all he says is, “Hopefully, Mr Beene won’t have to spend too much time on him, then. Goodnight, Ethan.”

…

Setting aside his papers and pen, Cyrus stretches out.

Beside him, Tom looks up from his book.

“I’m sorry. For bringing my work here,” he offers.

“I don’t mind,” Tom says. Setting the book aside, he traces his nose across Cyrus’s neck. “I’m just surprised you haven’t had Doyle killed, yet.”

Closing his eyes against the sensation, Cyrus says, “Charlie won’t. Olivia and Hollis have some deal, and this extends to some deal between Charlie and the one called Huck. If only Liv had added a, ‘Never, ever make a mockery out of this great nation by attempting to run for President,’ to this, I could tolerate his continuing survival much easier.”

Moving slightly away, Tom says, “I-I could. Kill him for you.”

Cyrus looks over.

Shifting, Tom continues, “He’d be an easy enough target. I could make him suffer or make it quick. Whatever you wanted. Olivia Pope would never know you were behind it.”

“This is new territory,” Cyrus comments.

Tom looks away.

Reaching over, Cyrus pulls Tom against him. “Take your own advice and talk, Tom.”

“When we’re together, you make me happy,” Tom quietly tells him. “I want to- if this would make you happy, just say the word.”

This is a relationship, properly hits Cyrus. He supposes it’s been hovering inside for some time, but until now, he’d managed to avoid acknowledging the fact. It’s an unsteady one- Tom will always be B6-13, choose Rowan over anyone and anything, and might not even recognise it as one, but it is one.

Cyrus will privately admit to emotionally manipulating James, and however much he wishes he weren’t the type who would do such a thing, he is. Janet is still alive, but he stole years from her life. Ronnie died years ago, and Cyrus didn’t have anything to do with it, but he’s always going to wonder if Ronnie might still be alive if Cyrus had stayed in his life or, at least, left it on better terms.

Everything has a price, and potentially using the feelings of a B6-13 agent he’s sleeping with- it might be the stupidest, dangerous, most questionable thing he’s ever done.

But Hollis should have been dead years ago, and even if Cyrus can stop him now, there might come a time when Hollis finds himself sitting in the Oval.

“Yes,” Cyrus says. Tom shifts to look at him, and he continues, “I want him dead. I don’t care how, as long as Liv doesn’t connect it to me.”

Looking at him with soft eyes, Tom nods. “I can do it this Saturday.”

“Sounds good.”

Tossing the book aside, Tom reaches over and kisses him.

…

He and Liv go out for lunch, and he half-expects her to bring up Hollis.

“What do you think of Mellie running, Cyrus?”

“She has a decent shot,” he answers. “It’d be something to finally have a woman President. I take it you’re officially running her campaign?”

She rubs her eyes. “It makes me suspicious when you’re so calm and quiet. Where are the speeches explaining how horrible a mess this is, what I’d be wise to do, and the consequences if I don’t? Where are the insults, Cy?”

He considers it. “You and Fitz are both going to do whatever you want. In your case, you usually try to do what you think is best, although, how you think this is the best- But the point is, there’s only a few more months of his term left. If you, he, and Mellie can get by without causing anymore big scandals or putting us all risk for one getting out, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

“Right now, I’m looking into options for myself once his term ends. I need to spend more time with Ella. I know I do. But some easy, cushy job, or worse, retirement- Liv, that’s not for me.”

“Yeah.” She nods. “I know. How is Ella?”

“Good. She’s going to be starting kindergarten soon, and I have no say in what school she’ll be attending. Susie would claim otherwise, but she’s already found a school she liked, made pie charts on why I should just shut up and write the check, and has already made friends with and put the fear of God into the teachers at this school.”

Olivia laughs. “I take it Ella will be going to this school, then?”

He pulls up the information on his phone. “Do me a favour and tell me what you think.”

She looks through it. “It’s a good school. It sounds like it’ll play to her strengths.”

“I’ve already written the check and emailed all the necessary papers.”

“Good,” she says. “Now, about Mellie?”

“If you can make sure the fact she’s screwing him doesn’t get out, Nichols would be the better choice for VP. Otherwise, though, go with Susan. Do yourself favour, though, and try to find a way to impress onto both of them that stealing United States servicemen and women is not-”

“Let it go, Cy.”

“Why should I let it go? The President’s always happy to trot out my faults, but yet, I’ve never decided someone was raped based solely on a feeling and kidnapped said person. He adores her.”

“So do I,” Liv says. “And we adore you, too, Cyrus. It’s just- well, we know both of you, and intent sometimes matters.”

“Fair enough,” he grumbles. Bracing himself, he asks, “And what about your father? Does Rowan want Mellie in the White House?”

“I don’t know,” she answers. “He swears he’s retired.” Scoffing, she says, “I don’t believe it, either. But as far as I can tell, right now, he doesn’t care about the upcoming elections one way or another.”

 …

Tom is already undressed when Cyrus lets himself into the suite.

Taking off his shoes and loosening his tie, Cyrus sits down on the bed, and when Tom moves to kiss him, Cyrus stops him. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

Pulling the covers back on Cyrus’s side, Tom moves away slightly and asks, “What’s going on, Cy?”

Getting fully on the bed, Cyrus leans against the headboard and looks over. “This- it might become a conflict of interest. I’m hoping it won’t, but- There’s a politician I have my eye on. I’m going to see if I can make this person President. I don’t know if Rowan has his own stakes in this election, and I’m not asking. If he does, I’m still doing this.”

“So, I’m not naïve enough to think that, if one of us says something we shouldn’t, that the other one won’t use it. But I am proposing a Chinese wall of sorts. We try not to say anything that could be used against us. We don’t ask. And any manipulation doesn’t happen in-” He tries to figure out how to properly word it.

“Got it,” Tom says. “I understand, Cyrus. Let’s start not talking about it right now. You have to get home in two hours, anyway. I can think of several things I’d much rather do during them.” Reaching over and kissing him, his hand goes for Cyrus’s belt.

…

Fitz looks up from the request. “Pennsylvania?”

“Ella’s going to start school soon, and James and I talked about taking her on a vacation before she did,” he explains. “Pennsylvania has a number of kid-friendly museums. She likes museums.”

“Good for you, Cy,” is Fitz’s sincere reply. “No detail, though?”

“It’s just going to be Ella and me. Susie’s taking her own vacation. And Ella’s never been in any danger from anyone.”

“All the same, if Tom ends up taking a personal day in order to sit outside your office and badger you every time you come out, I’m not having him removed from White House grounds.”

“What I do on my vacation doesn’t concern him.”

“I’m just warning you, Cyrus. If he isn’t happy, as long as he doesn’t involve me, you don’t get to, either.”

…

Agent Larsen strides past Ethan without a word, and all Ethan has time to think is, ‘This isn’t going to be good,’ before he hears Cyrus ordering, “Don’t close my door.”

“We need to talk,” Agent Larsen declares as he’s closing the door.

On the one hand, Ethan has a responsibility to make sure no interrupts them (never the mind the fact he might be in trouble for Agent Larsen’s unwelcome entry). However, on the other hand, risking his life to surreptitiously rearrange things on Abby Whelan’s desk when she’s on the phone or engrossed in reports carries the possibility of a peaceful death, and a peaceful death would mean no being fired or subjected to any creatively horrible death Cyrus might decide to target him with. 

Decisions, decisions…

…

“This isn’t the place, Tom.”

“No, but since it’s the only place I have a chance at making you listen, it’ll have to do.”

“I want to have some private time with my daughter, not have her holding Agent Tinder’s hand or explaining to Agent Jacobs why Agent Jacobs’s theories on Star Wars are completely wrong the whole time.”

“Jameson can do some rearranging and put some different agents-”

“Tom,” he groans. “You fail to understand-”

Sitting down, Tom says, “Look at me, Cyrus.”

Startled, he does.

“I would never hurt Ella. What I did to Jerry doesn’t matter. I would never hurt her. I don’t care what politician you want to be kingmaker to. If you’ve ever wondered, I haven’t told Command about us. I- wanted something for myself for as long as I could manage to have it. He’ll know you’re planning something soon enough, but it won’t be from me. Even without him, do you think the five-year-old daughter of a campaign manager is safe from all the people who might object to your candidate? That you yourself are untouchable?”

Tom shakes his head. “I’ve already built a wall between myself and Ella’s detail. None of the agents are B6-13, and they all know they report directly and only to Jameson. I don’t talk to her unless she comes to me with a threat that needs to be brought to the President’s attention. Do you understand?”

Cyrus files all this away.

“Look, Tom- I understand you want to keep Ella and me safe. I promise you, more than I don’t want anything happening to me- you remember me asking what I had to do to keep her safe. I was scared, and I would have done whatever I had to that night in here. And maybe, in the future, there will be a greater risk to her. Right now, however, no one knows or cares that the White House’s Chief of Staff is going on a week’s vacation with his daughter.”

“Bad things can unexpectedly happen.”

“Yes, they can,” he agrees. “However, I’m not going to have Secret Service be a part of every aspect of my life and Ella’s unless it becomes absolutely necessary. Look- would you feel better if I called you every morning and night to let you know we’re okay?”

Tom gives him a considering look.

“It’s not a trick question, Tom. If you want, I’ll call you. If there is something wrong, I imagine you’d know very soon.”

“That would make me feel a little better,” Tom answers.

“Okay, then. I will. Now, go see if Ethan’s out there or if Red’s shot him dead for rearranging her CD collection, again.”

Standing up, Tom buttons his jacket. “I’m still not happy, Cyrus.”

“I’ll make you happy tonight. We can watch that ridiculous Helen of Troy movie, and I will refrain from commenting on the cheesy effects, numerous plot holes, and the atrocious dialogue.”

Smiling slightly, Tom asks, “The 1950’s version?”

“What else? I like the 1985 Leda one, and we both agreed we’d never, ever watch the 2007 Zeus one again.”

“Looking forward to it,” Tom says.

…  

“I’m hungry,” Ella announces.

Cyrus represses a sigh. It seems Ella is _always_ hungry. He almost says, ‘You just had breakfast,’ but he remembers all of Susie’s repeated instructions and her clear dubiousness at it just being him and Ella.

“There’s a café around here. Let’s find it, and I’ll get you a muffin, okay, sweetheart?”

“Thank you.”

Telling her the name, he says, “Help me look for it.”

They walk around, and she tugs on his hand and points out it. “There it is, Daddy.”

Inside there’s a line, and seeing an empty booth, he sets her in it. “Sit here while I order. Do you know what you want?”

“Chocolate, please.”

“And to drink?”

She considers it. “Pink lemonade.”

“I’ll see if they have any. If not, do you want regular?”

“Yes, please.”

…

“I’m just saying, I find it suspicious that nurse-”

Laughing, Alex Vargas shakes his head and scoffs. “This is why I had to fight Frankie to keep you from being reassigned. Imagine only seeing a nurse on the night shift during the night. You’ve got it into Sara’s head that Meg is a vampire.”

“She’s too interested in your brother’s education bill.”

“She’s politically active outside of work, which, aside from being good, likely means the sun isn’t-”

Seeing a little girl slowly approaching them, they stop. She’s black, wearing a Winnie-the-Pooh t-shirt with green overalls, green socks, and black tennis shoes, has her hair held up in two buns, one on each side of her head, and looks to be about Ana’s age. Looking up at Jon’s earpiece, she quietly asks, “Excuse me, are you Secret Service?”

Briefly glancing over at Alex, Jon hands over his badge.

Kneeling down, Alex says, “Hey, I’m Alex Vargas. Yes, he is.” Opening the badge, he shows it to her. “He’s Agent Jonathon Nelson, but everyone calls him Jon. He helps take care of my brother. Can we help you, sweetie?”

“I need to find my daddy. There was a butterfly outside the café, and I went to chase it, and now, the café’s gone.”

“Okay, we’ll see what we can do. Do you know the name of the café?”

“I forgot. They had flowers. That’s why the butterfly was there. They get pollen and take them to other flowers.”

Alex nods. “What’s your daddy’s name?”

“Cyrus Beene. He- a lot of people work for President Grant inside the White House, that’s my Uncle Fitz, and Dada-” She frowns. “I’m not sure. Susie says that his jobs is one of the most important besides the President’s, though.”

Jon hands him Jon’s phone, and he looks down to see a staff picture in the Oval. “Who’s Susie?”

“My nanny.”

Showing her the picture, he asks, “Is your daddy in this picture, sweetie?”

Nodding, she points, and he looks down.

Cyrus Rutherford Beene, White House Chief of Staff. He’s an older white man, and Alex vaguely remembers, a few years ago, Frankie and Luna discussing whether Frankie should write a letter expressing his condolences over Beene’s husband being killed in a carjacking.

While Jon retakes the phone and calls someone, Alex says, “Alex is a nickname. My full name is Alejandro Vargas. Will you tell me your name?”

“I’m Ella Margaret Novak-Beene. I don’t like Margaret, and I don’t think my other daddy did, either, but Dada says it’s important. It’s Mrs Grant, the First Lady’s, middle name, too.”

“You have two daddies?”

“Uh-huh. He’s in heaven. Someone wanted his car, and they shot him,” she informs him with a sad, confused look. “But Secret Service is going to make sure that never happens to me or Daddy.”

“Found him,” Jon announces.

“Okay, sweetheart, Jon knows where the café is. We’ll take you to your daddy, now, alright?” He offers his hand.

She takes it. “Thank you.”   

…

Cyrus tries to listen to the officers, but the fearful thoughts refuse to stop.

One minute, James was there, and then- Tom was right, a five-year-old girl- Charlie had Amanda Tanner in the lake in less than ten minutes, and he has no idea how long exactly Ella’s even been-

“Daddy!” Ella’s voice cuts through.

…

Jon identifies himself to the cops outside the café, and inside, Alex sees Cyrus Beene frantically pacing. Once he hears Ella, however, he stops, and expression of tearful relief overtakes his face.

When he kneels down, Ella immediately says, “I’m sorry.”

Alex can tell Beene is inwardly reminding himself to be patient. “It’s okay. We can talk about it later. Are you alright, honey? That’s the most important thing.”

“I’m fine. Alex’s brother, Frankie, is the Governor, Daddy, like President Fitz used to be, and Jon found you.”

She leads him over.

“Mr Beene,” Alex says. “I’m Alex Vargas, Governor Francisco Vargas’s brother. This is Agent Jon Nelson. We were out walking when your daughter approached us. Somehow, she knew Jon was Secret Service, and she asked us to find you.”

A look of pride crosses Beene’s face as he looks down at his daughter. Looking back up, he shakes Alex and Jon’s hands. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he breathes out.

“Can- can I still have my muffin,” Ella tentatively asks.

…

While Ella is eating and arguing with Jon over whether Star Wars or Star Trek is better, Alex asks, “Here on business?”

“No,” Cyrus answers. “Ella’s going to start school soon. This is just a vacation. I’m hoping to attend the council meeting your brother’s speaking at this Friday, though.”

“Good. The President’s bill is severely lacking in several key areas.”

Chuckling, Cyrus says, “I’ll admit that it needs some polish, but your brother is never going to sell his version. It’s good, I’ll grant you and him, but the conservatives who tolerate him due to his sincere religious devotion and crossbow hunting are never going to agree to give a free ride to certain young people. It’ll interfere with the school-to-prison pipeline they’ve spent years creating and maintaining and deny them the pleasure of looking down at the poor Joe and Jane slinging hash for around seventy hours a week and busting their ass to please the non-tipping customers who demand smiles and service at literally impossible to accomplish speeds.”

Smiling slightly, Alex says, “I appreciate you not sugar-coating. Most Republicans have that down pat. You’ve done your homework on Frankie.”

“I always do my homework on the local politicians when I’m visiting somewhere new. His opponent, Meri Philips, had a good point on his clean water bill being doomed to fail, incidentally. He should have listened to her.”

“Yeah, she never loses a chances to remind whatever reporter she can con into giving her airtime,” Alex grumbles.

Ella comes over. “Bathroom.”

….

After Ella’s gone into the ladies’ room, Alex says, “It was nice to meet you, Mr Beene. I hope you can make it on Friday.”

Shaking his hand and Jon’s, Cyrus says, “Mr Vargas. Agent Nelson. Thank you both for today. I hope I can, too.”

…

After Ella falls asleep, Cyrus calls Tom.

“Hey, Cy. How was everything today?”

Trying to keep his voice steady, he tiredly tells Tom, “You were right.”

“Cyrus?”

“Ella’s fine, but earlier- we were in a café, and she wandered off. By some miracle, she found- happened across a Secret Service agent, but- you were right. And I can’t bear losing her.”

“Hey,” Tom softly says. “Tell me what happened.”

When he’s done, Tom is quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry that happened. The important thing is, though, you’re both safe. I’m not saying I’m wrong, but- sometimes, little kids wander off, Cy. Even before Karen slipped her detail, when she was younger-”

“Yeah, I remember Jerry was always managing to wander away from Secret Service, and a few times, he dragged her along,” Cyrus says. Letting out a breath, he continues, “I never truly understood what Fitz and Mellie went through until now.”

“Just explain to Ella what she needs to do if she gets lost, again. If I need to, I’ll see if I can get some agents down there to spare some time, but this could have happened to any parent, Cyrus. It doesn’t sound as if she’s being targeted, and she wasn’t hurt. I’m sorry I can’t do more right now.”

Before he can think, Cyrus says, “Hearing your voice helps.”

Tom makes a small sound. “Other than this, how was everything?”

“Good. Alex Vargas and I got into a friendly…”

…

On Friday, Ella occupies herself with a colouring book, and Cyrus listens to Francisco Vargas speak.

After the meeting, Vargas shakes his head. “Mr Beene. Alex told me about you.” Kneeling down, he offers his hand to Ella. “And your beautiful little girl, Ella. Hey, sweetheart.”

Giving him a shy smile, Ella shakes his hand.

“I have two little girls of mine own and a son,” he continues. Opening his wallet, he shows them a family picture and introduces everyone. “Ana’s five, too.”

“You have a beautiful family, Governor,” Cyrus says.

Vargas smiles brightly. “Thank you. Tell me, do you and Ella have any plans for dinner tonight? It’s just me, Luna, and Sara tonight, and I’m making cheeseburgers. It’d be nice to have you both over.”

Ella moves closer. “How do you make cheeseburgers?”

“Well, there are different ways. Sometimes, I cook them outside on a grill, but tonight, I’m cooking the meat on the stove. Sara always warms her bun up in the microwave, but my wife, Luna, and I do ours on the stove. What do you like on your cheeseburgers?”

…

Francisco Vargas and his wife are genuine.

It’s been a long time since Cyrus witnessed a politician having a truly loving relationship with his or her spouse.

“Thank you for having us over tonight, Governor Vargas.”

“Frankie,” he corrects. “Thank you for coming over. Think I could talk you into giving me some pointers on getting my bill through? It’s good, and it is absolutely necessary.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Cyrus says. “I agree. My husband, James, and I were both lucky growing up. I came from new but deep money, and that gave me the best education possible. He was, well, to be perfectly honest, I can’t say he was a good student, but he was very creative and intelligent, and his parents were middle-class and worked hard and sacrificed a lot to make sure he had the best, too. Ella will always be lucky. I plan to make sure she has the best.”

“Since we first brought her home, however, I’ve become much more acutely aware of all the children out there who will never be so lucky. What I said to Alex, unpleasant though it may be, there’s a lot of truth in it. Now, if you’d be willing to come down to Washington, I could get you a meeting with the President. You and he might be able to-”

“I can’t leave Pennsylvania right now.”

“May I ask why not?”

Frankie hesitates. “Private family matters.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, that’s the best I can do. In the future, know the offer’s always open.”

Sara Vargas zooms into the living room.

“Hey, angelita, where’s Ella?”

“Counting,” Sara answers. “Mr Beene, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Uh, Sara-”

“It’s alright,” Cyrus says. “I’m too busy and old to have a boyfriend.”

“No,” Sara says with a small frown. “I mean, maybe too busy, but my friend Eddie’s grandpa is really old, and he has a girlfriend. She’s really old, too.”

Cyrus laughs. “Right. Well, then, maybe someday, if I can stop missing James so much, there’s still hope for me.”

She nods, puts her finger against her lips with a look at both of them, and goes over and crawls underneath a recliner.

“You’d do that for Democrat,” Frankie asks.

“We’re both public servants, sir. And you’re one of the most sincere I’ve met in a long time. I might not agree with everything you have to say, but I’d rather help someone like you say what you want and need to than advance the career of yet another politician who will say whatever the money or votes require of them.”

Ella appears. “Daddy, have you seen Sara?”

…

He and Ella get back on Sunday night, and when he comes in on Monday morning, Tom locks his office door, and they have a repeat of their first night together.

When they’re done, Tom strokes his fingers across Cyrus’s skin and murmurs, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too. Everything okay while I was gone?”

“Yes. Ethan and Miss Whelan are both still alive. Vice-President Ross hasn’t done anything you’d find objectionable lately. Neither has the President.”

“Good. Listen, I was thinking-”

There’s a knock on the door, and someone turns the knob. “Sir,” Ethan’s voice says. “Sir, there’s an emergency-”

“Just a minute, Ethan!”

They hurriedly dress, and grabbing Tom’s tie, Cyrus hastily does a Kelvin knot as he tries to smooth down Tom’s hair. Grabbing his own tie, they squeeze out the door. “No going into my office today, Ethan. What’s the emergency?”

Reaching over, Ethan stops Tom. “Um, sir, it’s- The President wants to meet both of you along with Miss Pope. Uh, in your office. In about ten minutes.”

“Oh, God,” is Cyrus’s response.

“Sir?”

Taking the coffee Ethan brought for Cyrus, Tom orders, “Ethan, go tell the President that some coffee was spilled in Mr Beene’s office, and then, go get some more coffee.”

Thankfully, Ethan doesn’t seem even particularly confused by this. “Right away. Um, should I see if the cleaning staff have any white vinegar? It’s, uh, just, spraying white vinegar is good for getting rid of strong smells.”

“Yes,” Cyrus agrees. “Now, go.”

Ethan hurries away.

Tom pours the coffee on the necessary spot on the floor, and trying to avoid having a panic attack or another heart attack, Cyrus does his own tie.

…

“It could have been worse,” Tom says.

“No, it really couldn’t have been.”

“They didn’t find out.”

True, yes, but if Fitz didn’t suspect before, he likely does, now. And if he did, his suspicions have been more-or-less confirmed.

“Still, I’ve decided Susan Ross needs to die.”

“If I kill her, Nichols will likely worm his way back in.”

“Kill him, too, then!”

“Do you remember when you said my solution to almost everything was murder and that-”

“I said, ‘Most B6-13 agents have a disturbing tendency to resort to torture followed by murder when less extreme measures would net the same results.’ And I stand by that.”

He sits. “Stop taking every criticism I have about B6-13 as a criticism against you personally, Tom. Besides,” he admits, “Susan is a good VP when she stops to temper her idealistic crusading with common sense.”

Tom runs his hands through Cyrus’s hair, and Cyrus feels some of the tension draining out of him. “We better both get to work. Hopefully, we can find time for lunch at the same time today.”

“Sounds good.”

…

A month after his trip to Pennsylvania, Ethan knocks and pops his head in. “Sir, Governor Vargas is on the phone.”

“Out,” he orders Tom.

Letting out an exasperated sound, Tom quickly gathers up his dinner and leaves.

After Ethan closes the door, Cyrus answers, “Hello, Governor.”

…

“What was that about?”

“Governor Vargas is visiting the White House next week. He’s bringing his son and one of his daughters. I’ll need you and Jameson to work out which agents can be spared if the need arises.”

“Will do.” Tom’s phone pings. Digging it out, he looks down and sighs. “Speaking of agents, I have to deal with one in particular tonight. Sorry.”

“That’s too bad. Anything I can do? Or that I need to know?”

“No.” Tom leans over and kisses him. “Hopefully, this will all be taken care of by morning. Have a good night, Cy.”

“You, too.”

Tom leaves, and trying to quell the disappointment inside, Cyrus calls to cancel at the Grand District Hotel.

…

Tom sits down.

“Have you gotten confirmation Francisco Vargas is who Cyrus Beene intends to play kingmaker for,” Rowan asks.

“No, sir.”

“Find out quickly.”

“Sir-”

“Is there a problem, Thomas?”

“Cyrus Beene knows who and what I am. Because of this, gaining his trust is an impossibility. He’s not going to tell me, and he doesn’t have anything pertaining to his plans on anything electronic.”

“I’m disappointed, Tom. I recall teaching you that nothing is impossible.” Rowan scoffs. “You want to be more careful. If I didn’t know what a loyal boy, what a good solider, you were, I’d be suspicious of you deciding to sleep with someone like Cyrus Beene and not tell me. The best case scenario is you decided to try to further protect yourself after he discovered what you are by taking one for the team. The worst case scenario is any wherein you are considering ever putting him and what you’re doing with him over me. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Find out who Cyrus Beene is going to try to make the next President by this weekend.”

“I will. I’m on it, sir.”

…

They’re in bed, and Tom is clearly operating on autopilot.

When Tom stops kissing him and starts to move downwards, Cyrus stops him. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on inside your head, but we’re not doing this when your mind is obviously somewhere far away.”

Frustration is the only clear read Cyrus can get on him.

“Here, turn onto your stomach.”

Tom does, and Cyrus slips his hand under Tom’s shirt. There a dip in the small of Tom’s back where the muscles cord tightly whenever Tom’s been on his feet for too long or is particularly stressed out. Cyrus gently presses against it with his thumb and starts making slow, light circles. “I need to get home at seven to get ready for dinner with the Vargases. We can watch TV until then, or I can leave now. Whatever you want.”

The muscles have relaxed underneath his thumb enough he applies a little more pressure, and Tom’s whole body visibly loosens. Turning his head, Tom says, “I want you.”

“I’m right here. If you mean sex, no, you clearly don’t want it tonight. Don’t make this into something big or wrong on either of our parts, Tom.”

There’s a groan, and the last of the knotted muscle smooths out. “Thank you,” Tom mutters.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

For a long moment, there’s silence. “You were in love with James Novak. You still are. What’s being in love like?”

Thrown, Cyrus finally manages to respond, “What’s brought this on?”

“Sometimes, I think about other B6-13 operatives I’ve known. Some of them were good. I’m not saying they were good people, but they were good at what they did. Then, they broke the rules and paid dearly for it. I can understand being fond of a person. I can even understand an operative believing Command is making a mistake in giving the order to kill someone. Love, though- What exactly were these people feeling, and why did feeling it make them self-destruct? Would training to not become overly-attached to anyone have helped?”

Tom rolls over.

“There was training,” Cyrus tells him. “Maybe you didn’t need it, or maybe you didn’t realise you’d received it, but people like Rowan do train to try to prevent that sort of thing. Love. Being in love. Hmm.”

He shifts positions. “I don’t know if I can give a description you’d really understand. It just might be one of those feelings where, unless you’ve personally experienced it yourself, you can’t really understand it.”

“It’s- it’s not always a good thing. As we’ve both noted, it can make people stupid. It can hurt and cause self-destruction. There are times when it can be the unhealthiest thing a person can do, and the worst part is, even if they can control their actions and, to some extent, reactions, they can’t just stop and decide not to be.”

“All that said, it can be the most wonderful thing in the world, and that’s not hyperbole.” He brings his hand up to his face and traces his ring. “I’ve hurt everyone I’ve ever loved, but loving them did make me a better person. Wanting and needing them wasn’t a weakness. James- I didn’t want most of the same things he wanted, I didn’t believe most of what he believed, but I didn’t want him to change. I just wanted him to be happy and be with me and believe and fight for things that didn’t put me at risk. But of course, there’s only so much a good, moral man can agree to overlook in exchange for his husband and baby before he’s reached his limit.”

Moving his arms back down, he says, “Maybe this will help: I’m not like you. You aren’t particularly afraid of death, but you once said Hal was someone, one of the rare people, maybe the only, you’d take a bullet for despite it not being required. Everyone one else, every other scenario, where you would, it would come down to it being your job or an order. I’m terrified of death. And I wish I could, I can’t claim this, but, uh, if I were given a choice: Die and James can live. He can be alive and take care of our daughter and have a chance at being happy, I desperately hope I would take it.”

Beside him, Tom tenses. “I knew someone. They were in love, and the person they loved left them. They’re strong and smart and kind. I imagine they would have been okay, but they suffered a tragedy, and this person wasn’t there for them. They hurt themselves. They tried to kill themselves. I’ve never been able to understand what is so special about this one person.”

“And you never will.” Turning over, he explains, “Tom, whether this person is special to anyone besides the person who loves him or her doesn’t matter. When you love someone, they’re special to you. Something about them, within them, causes something in you to want and need them in order to have real happiness. If it doesn’t work out, if you lose them, you lose a part of yourself.”

“And you’ll probably never get it back. People, most people, at least, can live with heartbreak. They can manage to, eventually, be happy. Some can even manage to fall in love or simply deeply love another person again. All the same, a part of who they were is gone, and there’ll always be some mental scars, no matter how much they might fade.”

Tom reaches up and briefly brushes his fingers over his own throat. “Being willing to die and wanting to die are two different things.”

“Very true. My advice is to just be glad you’re one of the lucky ones who will never experience the latter, at least not over losing someone. It’s scary. ‘Terrifying’ comes to mind.”

He abruptly realises what he unwittingly admitted to, and the look on Tom’s face- ‘unhappy’ is as close as he can get to describing it.

Sighing, he rolls his eyes upward. “I never tried anything, but yes, Tom, I know the feeling. ‘The good die young,’ is an idiotic, simplistic quote that’s supposed to help people deal with the fact that someone this world desperately needed on it died before their time even truly began.”

“I don’t want to live in a world without him. It’s a way of saying I want him back alive, but there were a few nights and days after it first happened that it meant something else.”

Pressing against him, Tom says, “TV sounds good.”

Kissing him, Cyrus turns it on.

Soon, Tom’s breathing evens out, and he rolls onto his back.

When it’s time to go, Cyrus cancels his phone’s alarm before it goes off, pulls the sheet up over Tom, and turns off the TV and lights on his way out.

…

Once the door’s closed, Tom opens his eyes, gets up, and soon finds himself in front of a cabin in the woods. Taking a deep breath, he goes inside and holds his hands up when he hears the cock of the gun.

“I was wondering when one of Rowan’s would find me,” Jake Ballard comments.

“He didn’t send me. I don’t know whether he knows about here or not, but I’ve known for three months, and I’ve never said anything to him.”

“Right. What are you doing here, then, Tom?”

“Can I sit down, sir?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Jake agrees. He sits, too. “You framed me for murder. For treason.” 

“We’re all guilty of both.”

“Not Jerry,” Jake snaps. “I would never kill Fitz’s son. Either of them, or his daughter.”

Tom lets out a small chuckle. At Jake’s look, he shakes his head. “It’s not you I’m laughing at. Jerry was Governor Big Jerry’s son, not President Grant’s. I thought that mattered. It made it easier. But biology doesn’t matter. Either way, I couldn’t have disobeyed an order from Command. You were once the same.”

“Yeah,” Jake softly agrees. “I was. What are you doing here, Tom?”

“I’ve been sleeping with Cyrus Beene.”

Giving him a startled look, Jake says, “Okay. I’m, uh- Is- Did Rowan order you to do this? And you want out?”

“No.” Tom leans back. “From what I can gather, feeling safe is- means not thinking about potential danger or being afraid of it happening. I’m usually not afraid, but I’m always aware of potential danger. It’s my job to constantly scan the perimeter in order to keep my President safe, and on some level, I’m always thinking, ‘If this happens, I’ll need to do so-and-so.’”

“Even when I’m off-duty, I’m always aware of everything. Cyrus isn’t safe. He’d be happy to see me dead or in a hole. I know that. He’s never made it a secret. But when I’m with him, when we’re in bed, all I’m aware of is him and how good everything feels. I’m not thinking that this or that could happen.”

Shaking his head, Tom says, “It won’t last much longer. Me and him. But I want to protect him from Command. You want to bring Command down. My goal would solved by helping you achieve yours.”

“Okay, say you’re telling the truth-”

“I’d never ask you to trust Maya Marie, and I hope you aren’t making that mistake, now, but Charlie knows I’m telling the truth. Don’t you, Charlie?” He glances over towards a closed door.

Charlie and Maya step out.

“Huh. Uh, yeah. I mean, when it comes to him sleeping with Cyrus, he’s telling the truth. I can’t say whether all the touchy-touchy about feeling safe is true or not.”

“It’s true,” Maya says. “Baby, this is the exact opposite of what I told you to do. I told you to pick Rowan.”

“Name one time following your advice has ever done me any good.”

Letting out a small chuckle, she says, “Fair enough.” To Jake, she adds, “He’s sincere. Stupid, but sincere.”

“What brought this on now, Tom,” Jake asks.

“He wants to know if Cyrus is planning to try to make Frankie Vargas the next President.”

“Isn’t the chief?”

“Of course, he is. The problem is, Command- he wants something more. I don’t know what. Details, maybe. Cyrus hasn’t told me this. He wouldn’t have a note reading, ‘Commence plan to make Vargas President’, on his phone.”

“Then, how do you know he is,” Jake asks.

All three stare at him.

“Not a good question to ask? Apparently, I don’t know him as well as you two do.”

“Please, I know him less than you do, and I’ve known for some time what he was planning,” Maya says.

“How,” Tom asks.

“You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you along with Livvie, Tommy?”

“Just stay away from Ella.”

“I’d say you’ve gotten that pretty well taken care of.”

“Command is like Ballard,” Charlie says. “Tell him the chief did have something on his phone or laptop or scribbled on some paper in his desk. Tell ‘em there was some pillow talk, and he said something that confirmed it.”

“I can’t lie to him. I don’t mean I won’t, I mean I’ve never been able to successfully lie to him,” Tom says with a look at Maya.

“Unfortunately,” she mutters.

“Distract him?” Charlie suggests. “This being the chief, he has to have something in his phone or laptop that would interest Command.”

“All security’s been upgraded recently. There’s a good chance a hack would quickly be detected,” Tom says.

“But he doesn’t use a passcode,” Charlie says. “Or at least, he didn’t before. So, problem solved.”

“How do you- Never mind. A passcode or lack of one has no bearing on a hack being detected. You know this.”

“Yes, and I also know that there’s a very low-tech way of circumventing this by grabbing his phone while he’s in the bathroom or asleep and going through it. Funnily enough, there are actual teenage boys and girls, utterly, completely ordinary kids, who have figured out this insanely complicated way of snooping.”

“I might have an idea,” Jake says. Setting the gun down and digging a coin out of his pocket, he says, “Whichever of you doesn’t get to call Rosen, go make snacks. Call it.”

“Heads,” Charlie immediately says.

Flipping the coin, Jake announces, “Tails. Maya-”

“I won’t wind up our idiot attorney general too badly.”

They leave.

Moving his chair over next to Tom, Jake says, “Several agents have been brought in. We’ve been offered full immunity for any and all crimes committed during our time as B6-13 operatives. Maya’s been offered immunity for any and all past crimes on the condition she help bring in more agents. Just so you understand, however, immunity isn’t a guarantee the President won’t find out about you killing Jerry. That is a possibility.”

“I understand.”

“Cyrus Beene?”

“Command’s daughter,” is Tom’s pointed response.

“In fairness, I didn’t know about that until after I’d fallen in love with her.”

Tom nods. “It’s not just about him. Jerry- he wasn’t the first child I’ve killed. I’m a solider. Sometimes, women and children are unfortunate causalities. A pregnant woman once died because of me, but I did my duty. It was necessary.”

“I killed Hollis Doyle,” he continues. “Despite what Cyrus thought, he wasn’t a threat to the Republic. He was just an annoyance who personally wronged Cyrus. I’m never going to feel any guilt or regret.”

“Command told Harrison Wright that he took Jerry in retaliation for the President taking his child.” Tom sighs. “Olivia Pope is still alive. President Grant has never hurt her. And Cyrus, he’s tasked with working to maintain the Republic, but he isn’t Command. He’s not tasked with actively protecting it. You once ordered me to kill Sally Langston, and it didn’t matter what I thought, but that was a good call. Jerry wasn’t.”

Maya and Charlie reappear.

…

“We’re all agreed, then?”

All three nod.

Jake digs out a coin, and Maya immediately says, “Tails. Unless Tommy wants to talk to Rosen.”

“Golden Retriever here has always lacked a certain enthusiasm for torturing,” Charlie protests.

“Which is why he and I might completely take over in the near future,” Jake says. “But for now, tails, again.”

“Just for that, I’m taking the last of the chips,” Charlie announces.

Walking out of the room, Maya replies, “No one cares, baby.”

…

Cyrus is playing Charades with Sara, Ella, and Susie when Frankie comes in. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but we need to go right now. Go pack up, okay?”

“Why? Ana’s fine, we talked her-”

“It’s- we’ll talk about it, later. Please, just listen to Daddy.”

“I’ll help,” Ella says. She slides out of her chair, takes Sara’s hand, and pulls her down.

Once they’re gone, Frankie says, “Cyrus, thank you for your hospitality. And I’m very sorry to just leave like this.”

“Is everything okay?”

“My brother was arrested, and I- can’t blame him. Technically, he could have handled things better, but-” He shrugs.

“I’ll pack some food,” Susie says. “Don’t argue, Governor. I’m not letting you take the little ones with just their snack bag.”

“Thank you, Ms Henderson.”

“Susie,” she corrects.

“Is there anything I can do to help,” Cyrus asks.

Frankie starts to shake his head, but Cyrus quietly says, “Frankie, if there is, tell me. I haven’t had you and your family over because of politics. Alex brought Ella safely back to me. If I can help-”

Pulling him out in another room, Frankie softly says, “Ana has cancer, Cyrus.”

He hands his phone over, and Cyrus finds himself looking down at Ana Vargas. She has a headscarf on, is wearing a hospital gown, and machines are attached to her.

“Leukaemia. We’ve been keeping this out of the news, only a few people know. Today, though, some political blogger and photojournalist were in the hospital. How they found out- But they wanted to make it a story, and eventually, Alex punched the photojournalist. He’d never lay a hand on a woman, that’s why the blogger wasn’t also punched.”

“Stay a little longer,” Cyrus orders. “I’m going to make some calls. Yes, Alex could have handled things better, but like you, I don’t particularly blame him.”

…

Ethan is hiding from Abby Whelan when someone comes into the office.

“I’ve never paid much attention to it, Cy. It’s just another day,” Agent Larsen’s voice says. 

“No, it isn’t, and we’re doing something special on your birthday, Thomas,” Cyrus insists. There’s the sound of the filing cabinet opening. “I promise, no matter whatever comes up on Saturday- Found it. Hopefully, I can get this Vargas mess taken care of before then.”

“Chinese wall,” Agent Larsen says. “But good luck. I- it’d be nice if you could.”

Ethan is wondering if he should- There’s no good way to navigate around accidentally witnessing this type of private moment.

“And you’re not going to- Why is Red carrying her shoes?”

The fear only increases in Ethan.

“She’s hunting Ethan down. Please, don’t reprimand her. It’s taken Jameson taking her shoes away and making her wear a pair from the lost and found three times to get to this point.”

“Tom.”

“The warnings weren’t working. Jameson doesn’t care how deft she is in heels, she insists such movement in them is a safety hazard.”

“Someone had better work on this next. Visitors do not need to witness the White House’s press secretary running around barefoot with her heels poised as weapons in her hands. Do you think Ethan’s- where exactly is she headed?”

“To the men’s locker rooms. She’ll grab Dave on her way and make him go check inside for her.”

Ethan lets out a tiny breath of relief.

“Do you know what he did this time?”

Unfortunately, they leave before Agent Larsen answers.

…

“I’m going to kill Alex,” Frankie mutters.

“Your brother wasn’t the one who leaked this, Governor,” Cyrus points out.

He glances out the window and sees Jameson is still playing with the girls.

“I’m sorry it’s come out about your daughter’s cancer, but right now, unless you truly want your brother to suffer, you need to do something. Alex punched a man who wanted to place a picture of his sick, five-year-old niece out in the world along with her name and the names of her brother and sister. Now, it could be argued this man was just doing his job, and the fact that physically hurting a journalist who is trying to give accurate information to the public is indisputable by any rational person. That doesn’t mean Alex is the bad guy. It means he loves his family and goes into fight mode whenever he perceives a threat to any of them, especially the children.”

“I know you’re right,” Frankie says. “And of course, I’m going to help Alex. It’s just- I’m not really a politician, Cy. Alex, he could have been a great one, but instead, he decided my wanting to help people was what he was going to focus everything on. Now- Luna and I never thought, it never crossed our minds we’d have to face anything like this. And if it weren’t my little brother, even though I’d have great sympathy for the parents, I’d be firmly on the punched reporter’s side.”

Chuckling slightly, Cyrus gets some water. “I couldn’t possibly understand completely where you are, but I do have some idea. My respect for freedom of the press, in complete honesty, it used to be, ‘This other country is bad for not having it, now, here’s what we over here do circumvent it.’ Meeting James- He was great with kids, and to him, the sanctity of family values was not buzzwords. He wouldn’t have done something like this, but I’m sure, no, actually, I know, he was a thorn in the side of many people like me, and if any of them ever tried to go after him-”

Frankie gives him a sympathetic smile. “Is he- if you don’t mind me asking, is he the reason you never decided to run for office yourself?”

“I can’t say what would have happened if he and I hadn’t, but I was probably never going to run. I’d gotten into a point in my life- James changed things for the better. One thing where there were issues was he desperately wanted a baby, and I was much more on-the-fence. When I realised I couldn’t bear to spend the rest of my life without him and asked him to marry me, I promised him we’d adopt, and then, I proceeded to drag my feet,” he admits.

“Then, when President Grant was shot- I realised, despite my fear and conviction I’d do something to horribly traumatise the kid and despite the fact I couldn’t see it working, I needed to give it a try. It was what he needed and wanted.”

Scoffing slightly, he says, “James was going to be the main one to take care of her. We’d agreed. Now, I know that between my late and sporadic hours and my lack of experience in dealing with children, I leave a lot to be desired, and when Ella’s older, the chance of me making much bigger mistakes is likely, but she’s real. My little girl. Once Fitz’s term is over, I’m thinking of going back to Harvard. Try to see if I can conceivably make it work with just her and me.”

“Every parent leaves a lot to be desired, Cy, trust me,” Frankie says. “Even the very best. When Sara was three…”

… 

On Saturday, Frankie says, “Remind me again why I’m going on this lunatic’s show.”

“Sir, I worked with Sally, and yes, her beliefs are- she was a nightmare to work with, bluntly, but she’s sincerely compassionate towards your family’s plight. When her daughter’s abortion came out-”

“Right,” Frankie sighs. “That poor little girl. I can understand people going after Langston for her views, especially, if there’s any hypocrisy, but bringing a teenage girl into it, that’s crossing the line.”

“Yes,” Cyrus says. “Look, Frankie, you’re going to be fine. Um, I’m sorry that I won’t be around much today. A friend of mine, it’s his birthday, and- This was the best date I could arrange for you to go on Sally’s.”

“Cy, you’ve done more than enough. Wish your friend a happy birthday for me.”

…

In the cabin, Maya goes into her room and finds Tom lying in her bed. Crawling in beside him, she asks, “How was your birthday, Tommy?” She stretches out. “I know you’ve never been much for celebrating it.”

“If Miss- your daughter were to listen to you, what would you say to get her to stop seeing President Grant?”

“I thought you approved of them.”

“I’m mostly neutral,” he replies.

“Then, what’s brought this on, baby?”

“She’s tortured herself over it, you know. So has he. Tortured himself, I mean. I never understood why. If- leaving, breaking it off, it was an option if they couldn’t stop having moral qualms over it.”

Letting out a small sound, she says, “This might sound strange to you, but I don’t particularly blame him. Olivia, she should have never crossed the line with him. My girl should have known better. She should have had more self-respect. She shouldn’t have her let herself believe this wasn’t going to end up hurting her in the long run. A black woman is never going to be anything to a white man with money but a narrow list of possible things. Soulmates, a wife, a partner, the love of his life, none of those things are on that list.”

“But him, of course, he fell for my Livvie. A beautiful, strong, smart, kind woman with steel to her core mixed with compassion. It’s understandable he’d delude himself into believing it could be otherwise for them, that he was fundamentally different from his daddy and those ancestors of his on ships heading to Africa and living in plantations.”

Reaching up, she plays with his hair. “Is this about you and Cyrus Beene, kiddo?”

“I’m drowning,” he admits. “Everyone, including you and Cyrus himself, warned me, but I didn’t listen. Just walk away. Stop sleeping with him. Eating with him. He’d let me. Probably wouldn’t even care. Except, I’m either just like your daughter or just like President Grant. Can you help me? Tell me something to make it possible for me to stop.”

“First, help me out here. Was your birthday good or bad to cause this?”

He looks at her. “If it were bad or just normal, do you really think I’d be here, saying all this?”

“Point,” she says. “Alright, well, first, turn on your side and scoot over, baby. You’re taking up too much of the bed.”

After he does, she tells him, “The only way this can work is if you answer me honestly.”

“Not about-”

“It’s your birthday, Tommy. I’m not asking about the White House or anything else that I might need or want to know for future plans. This is solely about you.”

He nods.

“If he had genuine feelings for you, not necessarily in love with you, but he had actual affection for you and what you two have been doing, would we be having this conversation?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take a guess.”

“I don’t- we probably should be, but most likely, no.”

She chuckles. “I was sure my baby would end up with someone normal. Of course, she’d always be special and do great things, but there would be enough normality in her life. Have normal children. Hopefully, though, they’d take after her rather than whoever the daddy would be. I remember when Eli brought you in, I felt such pity and sadness, because, you’d never have that. But the truth is, you’ve managed to do better than Olivia. That isn’t really saying much, considering, but-” She shrugs.

“You want my advice? Don’t give him more than he’s willing to give you. If he can’t or isn’t willing to give you something, decide if being with him is worth not having it. And if it isn’t, then, as much as it hurts to walk away, I swear to you, baby boy, someday, it’ll hurt much, much more if you don’t.”

“And I know we aren’t much. Charlie is liable to end up dead soon, and unless you and Ballard can provide rock solid alibis, I don’t want to find myself automatically accused. He’s just as wrong for my Livvie as Fitzgerald Grant is but more useful as a man. Cyrus Beene might forgive you Jerry if you killed him, but I wouldn’t recommend it. So, we aren’t much, but right now, the four of us are all we can truly say we have. When the hurt from whatever decision you make gets unbearable, come to us. Ballard and I will try to help.”

Studying her, he asks, “Why’d you have her? Wasn’t he just supposed to be a target?”

“I’d never gotten pregnant before,” she answers. “Funny, I suppose, in an ironic way, but there’s a difference between murder and- Three days after she was conceived, somehow, I just knew I was pregnant and that I loved her. Eli, I thought he’d be a decent father. Hopefully, a good one. I wanted her to have two parents. When she got older, my nature started to rear itself.”

“How do I tell him? That I need to stop?”

“You’re not required to tell him anything.”

“I’m not going to just avoid him whenever possible.”

“Tell him it’s been fun, but this isn’t working for you anymore.”

“And when’s the best time?”

“Not during or before work, and if you have one last round, don’t tell him immediately afterwards.”

“Thank you.”

They soon fall asleep.

…

“Ever since Governor Vargas’s interview, his national profile is rising, sir,” Ethan tells Cyrus. “People are starting to talk about him making a run for President.”

“Wouldn’t that be interesting,” Cyrus comments. “And his brother is staying out of trouble?”

“Yes, sir. It looks like the charges are going to be dismissed.”

“Good.”

“What if he does run, sir?”

Cyrus shrugs. “For a Democrat, he’d make a good choice. And of course, I’d never blackmail a President, but those pictures I have of Ella and Sara painting his nails and toenails- Might come in handy someday.”

Ethan laughs. “You like him as a person, don’t you? More than Alex helping Ella, you like the Vargas family.”

“Yes,” Cyrus agrees, “I do. They have the tendency to inspire such feelings in people.”

Maybe you could help him run, then, Ethan thinks.

He’s not quite brave enough to say it, but Democrat or Republican, someone like Francisco Vargas in the White House is what the country needs, and he can’t think of anyone better to get Vargas here than Cyrus.

Hearing the phone ring, he goes out to answer it.

…

“Sir,” Ethan bursts back into the office. “Um- I just got a call. The FBI is here for Agent Larsen.”

Bewildered, Cyrus stands up. “What?”

“Something about Jerry, sir. Him getting sick and- I thought, Secret Service was all cleared of wrongdoing, weren’t they?”

“Of course,” Cyrus says. “Where- do you know where Agent Larsen is, Ethan?”

“No, sir. He called in saying he had a flat tire and there was something wrong with his spare.”

“If you see him, tell him not to say anything and to get his ass into my office. Whether he’s in there or not, if any FBI agents come, you don’t let them go in, look at, or take anything until you’ve triple-checked all their paperwork.”

“Got it,” Ethan agrees.

“Good.” Digging his cell phone out, Cyrus strides out.

…

Tom had forgotten why he used to try to avoid Charlie.

Now, with five flat tires, four of them due to the spike strip Charlie had failed to mention setting up, and a dead cell (this is going to be the day Cyrus, Jameson, or Hal is going to try and fail to make an important phone call to him, he knows), he remembers all too clearly why. 

Getting to the sign-in office, he finds his badge is missing.

Managing not to groan, he heads to Cheryl’s office.

“Larsen!”

An unhappy Cyrus suddenly appears, and before Tom can process anything beyond this, he finds himself in an empty room with Cyrus. Handing his phone over, he explains, “It’s inexplicably dead.”

“How- Not important. What is important is that the FBI is here. For you. Because apparently, you didn’t have everything as covered as you thought. You checked into a hotel near Fort Detrick the day the vial was stolen. You used your name, you were caught on camera, the hotel clerk can identify you. Worse, she claims your behaviour was somewhat suspicious.”

“And all of this could be fine, but oh, this is a direct contradiction to the alibi you gave for that day!”

Lack of enthusiasm for torture doesn’t mean Tom isn’t good at it, and assuming he manages to get out alive, Charlie is going learn this the painful way via a first-hand demonstration.

“Any brilliant ideas, Agent,” Cyrus sarcastically inquires.

He starts to leave, but Cyrus grabs him. “It might be better if you run any by me, first.”

“I’m working on it. Just- enjoy the show, Cy,” he sighs.

“Enjoy- you have absolutely no plan at all, do you?”

“Step one: Leave. Currently being hindered by you.”

“You don’t want a hunt to be launched for you, Tom. The fact you’re late today, coincidence or not, is going to be viewed with suspicion. Besides stealing the vial and checking into a hotel, what else did you do while in Maryland?”

“Nothing.”

“Then, we’ll just have to make a plausible reason, won’t we? How can-”

Realisation hits, but Tom can’t bring himself to- “You’re- you’re trying to help me. To protect me.”

“No, I want you to be executed for treason! Yes, I’m trying, ‘trying’ being the keyword here due to your lack of engagement, to help protect you. What do you expect?”

“‘The line stops at me doing anything to actively protect you,’” Tom repeats. “That.”

…

Cyrus doesn’t have time for this.

“I need you to process all of this very quickly, Tom: You and I are in a relationship. That- wasn’t supposed to happen, at least, not on my part, but it did. It has. It’s happening. Now, you can decide if this something you actually want and can handle later. Right now, neither of us want you executed for treason or thrown in some deep, dark hole for the rest of your life, and working with me is the best way to prevent that. Same page?”

…

“If you’re lying, Mister-” Agent Spry starts.

“Lying? I can’t- ask anyone, ma’am, and they’ll tell you, I’m the worst liar. Um, there’s an Abby Whelan, she’ll definitely tell you, and uh, probably try to kill me. I- uh, it’s not actually illegal to rearrange someone’s CD collection and hide-”

“If Cyrus Beene isn’t in his office-”

“He’s not,” Ethan insists. “And even if he were, he wouldn’t hide Agent Larsen, Coordinator of the Secret Service, in there. With him. Everyone knows-” He stops.

“Everyone knows what?”

Behind her, the door opens, and feeling utterly relieved, Ethan says, “Mr Beene, Agent Larsen! Special Agent Spry is with the FBI.”

His relief is tempered by a close look at them. Cyrus isn’t too bad- aside from his pants not being perfectly creased, there’s nothing telltale-

Agent Larsen, on the other hand-

The fact he knows more about his boss’s sex life now than he did when said boss was married probably isn’t good.

Digging a bottle of water out of his mini-fridge, he tosses it to Agent Larsen.

“What’s this about, agent,” Cyrus inquires.

“We need to interview Agent Larsen on a classified matter.”

“Alright,” Agent Larsen says. Reaching over, he touches Cyrus’s shoulder. “Assuming this doesn’t take too long, lunch later?”

Oh, Ethan thinks. He hasn’t realised how deep things had gotten on Agent Larsen’s end.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Cyrus answers with an affectionate look of his own.

…

Jake walks into the cabin and is almost hit by a knife Charlie just narrowly ducked.

“What in the hell?”

From her place on the couch, Maya shakes her head. “Tommy’s got it into his head that Charlie boy and I sent an anonymous tip to the FBI.”

“We make anonymous tips to various alphabet agencies all the time. Hey,” he grabs Tom just before Tom can wrap hands around Charlie’s throat.

Pulling the knife out of the door, Charlie says, “Yeah, but this was about our very own Golden Boy killing the Prez’s kid.”

“You,” Jake pries the pillow Tom’s advancing toward Maya with away, “did this why? Charlie, I don’t understand your motivation, but I know what it is. Maya, though, care to explain why you think implicating Tom in Jerry’s murder right now could possibly help any of us?”

“We needed to see what Tommy’s Mr Beene would do if our boy was in trouble.”

“I knew what he would do,” Tom snaps. “I told you what he would do.”

“And, hey, look at how wrong you were,” Charlie supplies.

Tom stiffens. “What were you planning to do if I’d been right?”

“Tom, hand over all of your weapons,” Jake orders. “The four of us are going to discuss-”

“Why should I?”

Taking an exasperated breath, Jake answers, “Because, Rowan is still a threat to all of us, and he just became a much bigger one to you. Think about it, Tom. Our reaction to you getting a boyfriend was to test him. His reaction would be to throw you in a hole, and having spent much longer in there than you ever have, let me assure you, you really don’t want that.”

Tom studies him. “You helped them?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “I’m helping them right now. And you. Believe it or not, I have better things to do with my time than worry about your love life. Except, of course, when you try to kill any of us over it. Now, weapons.”

…

“What do you think, Cy?”

Cyrus looks over at the two brothers.

Personally, he’s probably more exasperated at Frankie’s overprotective fussing than Alex is, but then, if Frankie had been the one to get beaten up, there’s no doubt Alex would have already killed a few people.

“I think he’ll probably live. If he lapses into a coma around the Senate hearing, however-”

“I’m insulted by the implication I don’t have enough faith in my girl and would try to welch on a bet. Frankie, really, bro, I’m good. These things happen.”

“They shouldn’t,” is Frankie’s firm reply. “The state of jails and prisons in this country, never mind the very real school-to-prison pipeline… Why is no one willing to acknowledge that countries offering free or reduced college have… And I know the drug laws are partly responsible, but even if a large number of people who didn’t deserve it weren’t being thrown into prison every day, even the worst of the worst should be guaranteed basic human rights…”

Cyrus slices an apple, pushes a few slices over to Alex, and they eat and exchange glances while Frankie paces and delivers his treatise.

Once Frankie starts to wind down, Alex says, “Look, there’s a good side to this. The prison reform bill you’re working on drafting, we can use this to hopefully help.”

“We’re not-”

“Sir, I’m going to make a personal observation that you might not like, but as one civil servant to another, I feel you do need to hear. You aren’t a manipulative person, and you despise hypocrisy. As such, you’re always careful not to use misfortune or tragedy to advance your goals. That’s admirable. It could be argued our country would be a better place if more politicians followed your leader.”

“However- you have a sick daughter, Frankie. Children in America die every day because they don’t have a Governor for a parent. Adults die every day of treatable diseases and injuries. Your brother punched someone, was put in jail, and while there, got into a fight. Many men of colour aren’t as lucky as him. They go to jail for victimless crimes, they get longer sentences, they’re truly innocent, and they suffer much worse than he has.”

“There is a difference between capitalising on tragedy and on telling people, ‘I’ve suffered, too. I am suffering. And I want to help end the suffering for us all. I might not personally understand all the hardships people face, but I’ve been through enough of my own that I’m willing to listen and do what I can to understand and help.’”

“You know what’s in your heart, sir, and you know why you would or wouldn’t bring something into the discussion, but you need to rethink some of the reasons why you aren’t,” he finishes.

…

The day the Vargases are scheduled to go back home, Frankie comes over. “Hey, Cy. I was wondering if you could do me a favour.”

“Of course, Governor,” he says. “What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said about how I sometimes do and don’t say things when it comes to advancing my goals, and Alex has helped me realise this can apply to my actions, too. Ana’s prognosis isn’t good, but she’s already lived six months longer than they thought was possible sixteen months ago. I think she’s going to go to college one day.”

“President Grant strikes me as a good man. He’s a better leader than could be reasonably expected from someone who’s faced all he has. If you got me a meeting, I’m sure he and I could work together to make sure her and every other young graduate’s college is free.”

“I’d be happy to-”

Frankie shakes his head. “I’m not asking for that, Cyrus. I don’t know if I’d make a good President. Running for that office with three small children, one of them sick- it might be a terrible idea. But I know that, if I were President, I would work hard and try my very best to serve this country and make it better for not only my children but all the children of this land.”

He takes a breath. “The polls, uh, say I have a decent shot. So, my favour is: If you agree, run my campaign. If you don’t, then, I am asking for that meeting.”

“I absolutely agree with the polls, Governor, and moreover, I do know you’d make a good President. It’s just- Alex has run all of your campaigns, every single one of them since middle school, and this would arguably be the most important one you’ve ever been part of.”

“We’ve talked about that, too. Obviously, Alex would have a senior position within, but something this big- you’re a kingmaker, Cy. Aside from helping get Grant elected to President twice, you’ve ran so many other successful campaigns. He recognises that my best chance is someone with significantly more experience than he has.”

Cyrus extends his hand. “Well, then, let’s see if, come this time next year, President Vargas’s education bill is passed.”

Laughing, Frankie shakes his hand and pulls him into a hug.

…

After he’s resigned, Cyrus approaches headquarters but stops when he hears a familiar voice asking, “Excuse me, do you know who Governor Vargas’s campaign manager is?”

“Michael?”

Jumping, Michael turns from the staffer he’s talking to. “Cyrus?” Realisation sets in on his face. “Let me guess: Found him?”

“You did. What are you doing here?”

“California didn’t work out, but I found a good job here. I’ve been seeing and hearing a lot of good things about Vargas, and I thought I’d volunteer. I, uh, didn’t see or hear anything about you being involved, though. Take care, yeah?”

Michael starts to walk away, and Cyrus grabs him. “Nope, you don’t get to walk away. We need all the able volunteers we can entice, trick, round up, blackmail, and torture into doing all the gruel work.”

Just as they enter, Frankie says, “Cy, you cannot literally pull people off the streets and-”

“I can this one. Sir, this is Michael Ambruso, a friend of mine, who recently moved back. He will be happy to volunteer.”

Frankie looks at them with amusement. “Is this true, Mister Ambruso?”

Before Michael can answer, Alex comes over. “Alright, I got the-” He pauses and looks Michael with clear interest. “Hi, Alex Vargas, Frankie’s brother.” Offering his hand, he asks, “You?”

Rolling his eyes, Frankie says something in Spanish.

Sighing, Alex responds in Spanish and lowers his hand.

More introductions are made, and Michael shakes hands with the brothers. “Despite Cyrus’s kidnapping, I really would like to help with your campaign, Governor Vargas.”

“Welcome aboard, then. Just be careful of my brother here. He and Cyrus are very similar.”

“Yeah, somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” Michael comments. “What can I do first?”

Things are definitely looking up, Cyrus reflects.     


End file.
